


The Christmas Cruise, or What Ever could go Wrong?

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [41]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aromantic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aromantic Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Cruise Ships, Dolphins, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), crowley's games, lots of games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: To thank his friends for cutting their first honeymoon short in order to save his life, Crowley offers Newt and Anathema a Christmas cruise.He didn't intend to get onboard. Neither did Aziraphale.But sometimes, an immortal entity's got to do what an immortal entity's got to do, right?Shenanigans will definitely ensue.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley & Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523585
Comments: 151
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know, there is NO angst in the tags! No hurt/comfort either!  
> I am aiming for a fluffy, funny one, but do not despair, my dear readers, angst isn't off the table yet. You know me. I can't SAY there won't be any, it always finds a way to mingle^^  
> But no hurt! I want the boys to have fun, so it will be a soft one anyway, with (obviously) a happy ending.
> 
> HUGE thanks to my wonderful beta megzseattle, I wouldn't write without you, Meg!!

The cruise ship was, in Aziraphale’s opinion, quite nifty. It wasn’t as large as he had dreaded, and he nodded approvingly as he eyed the staff prepare for boarding.

“Thank you so much, Crowley,” repeated Newton for the third time these last ten minutes. “This is huge, really.”

The demon shrugged, hands in his pockets, looking elsewhere. “No big deal,” he answered, a little harshly.

“We will have _so_ much fun,” added Anathema, ignoring Crowley’s tone. “A honeymoon cruise in December! It’s just perfect! I’ve never been to Venice!”

Next to Crowley, Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, I do hope you will both have a tremendously great time! And I am certain little Fyre will enjoy herself too.”

With a fond look, he reluctantly handed the baby to her mother. Anathema shook her head in mock annoyance as her daughter nuzzled her neck sleepily before getting back to sleep.

“How do you do it? She’s always so calm when you’re here. Are you sure you two don’t want to come too? It would be fun!”

“Naah,” drawled Crowley, “I’m pretty sure that inviting your two weird old uncles on your honeymoon is forbidden by law.”

“Oh, yes, this is a trip for you and dear Newt, we would only get in the way,” added the angel forcefully. There was a special Christmas menu at the Ritz on the twenty-fourth, and he wouldn’t miss it.

“Another time then. Really soon! You both need to unwind anyway, so let’s go somewhere hot this summer, all right? Cruise in the Caribbean!” mused Anathema, missing the angel’s slight catch of breath and Crowley’s grimace.

“Yes, maybe,” murmured Aziraphale.

He didn’t have a real interest in sailing, and knew his friend didn’t care for it either. They already had lived a cruise, the first and longest of them all, and that experience tended to put a damper on nautical aspirations altogether. And the Caribbean? In _summer_? No way.

Although he really loved Venice. Maybe he would pop there next year. It had been a while.

“Sir, Madam, it is time to get on board,” warned Allison, the nice lady overseeing boarding, with an apologetic smile. Crowley was fairly sure she thought Anathema was his and Aziraphale’s daughter, which was both hilarious and insulting. Did they look old enough to have a twenty-one year old daughter?*

*They did.

“Farewell, my dears!”

“Don’t say it like that, angel!”

“But I want them to fare well.”

“They will, just don’t make it sound like we’ll never see them again!”

“Can you two stop arguing for one second and say goodbye like civilized beings?” teased Newt, leaning against the railway over them.

Aziraphale smiled fondly. “So sorry dear, we--”

The angel’s beam faded as an odd sound resounded below deck and the motors stopped. He turned to glare at Crowley, who put his hands in the air.

“I have nothing to do with that!”

A few minutes later, everyone was disembarking.

“Maybe we should stay a little while more, after all,” murmured the angel.

Crowley nodded, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. People were already starting to complain loudly. This was like music to his ears.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll mingle, talk to people. You know, try to spread Christmas spirit.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “I am sure you will. I will try to find out what is going on. See you later, dear.”

It took twenty more minutes for the angel to gather that nothing was, in fact, wrong with the boat. The engines had been shut to delay departure, but were apparently perfectly functional. A little eavesdropping filled in the missing pieces of information. Jaw firmly set, he started to look out for his demon.

Crowley wasn’t very difficult to find. One only needed to follow the sound of angry, entitled men and women loudly expressing their displeasure at the delay. The angel spotted a familiar red head amongst the crowd, and hastily joined his friend.

“Crowley.”

The demon looked up and frowned.

“What’s wrong, angel? You look terrible.”

“Oh, Crowley! They do not have a _c_ _hef_!”

"What do you mean, no chef?"

“Well, you see, the boat’s chef, a very talented person apparently, just eloped with the sous chef’s fiancé, and the sous chef _quit!_ The kitchen staff is in an _awful_ frenzy, and they are searching for a replacement but the departure can’t be delayed for too long--”

The demon shrugged. “I’m sure they’ll survive. Come on, let’s go home.”

“My dear,” chided the angel. “We cannot abandon our friends in such a time of need! No, I will not set foot in the bookshop until that problem is resolved. No chef, indeed! I will be back in a jiffy, Crowley.”

With the focused, steely look of a dangerous predator stalking its next meal, the angel followed Alison, who was heading away, rapidly talking to whoever was on the phone with her. “I don’t care about the money, the company will cover the expenses, we need a cook _right now!_ ”

* * *

Crowley was glaring at the two potted plants that greeted the cruisers along in the cruise company’s lobby when he felt the rush of a huge angelic miracle. He rolled his eyes. Count on the angel to overdo it when it came to _food_.

“Do you think it’s my fault?” wondered Newt, joining him. The demon blinked and looked at the young man, who’s white jumper was now adorned with a magnificent puddle of regurgitated mashed pumpkin.

“Naaaah. It’s a staff problem, nothing computer related. Just stay away from the bridge and everything will be fine. Are Anathema and the kid okay?”

“Yes, they let them in the break room, so Fyre could sleep. Ana is reading cards to the barman. She intends to try every cocktail now that Fyre takes bottles so she’s already trying to get on his good side.”

“Clever girl,” approved Crowley.

“The brightest. I’ll go join them for a while, better get friendly too. My wife will need a drinking partner after all.”

“Acting like a devoted husband,” deadpanned Crowley.

“That’s the hardship of marriage. Come say goodbye before going, guys.”

The demon nodded and patted Newt’s back in silence, enjoying the frustration of the unhappy cruisers that were growing more and more restless by the minute, when he felt a familiar presence approach and stop at his side.

“Ready to go?” he asked, looking at a very insistent seagull trying to steal a lady’s sandwich.

Silence answered him. A very meek, very guilty silence. Crowley turned to look over the top of his sunglasses and caught one of Aziraphale’s most ashamed expressions. The demon grinned widely.

“Oh, what did you do now, angel?” he purred.

“Me?” squealed Aziraphale, darting his eyes everywhere but at his friend. “I certainly have no idea as to what you are implying, my dear.”

“Did they find a new chef?” pushed the demon, pretty sure that he was about to be thoroughly entertained.

“Ah, about that...” Aziraphale trailed off. “I may have been a _smudge_ too enthusiastic.”

Crowley only let out a non-committal grunt. As planned, it spurred the angel on.

“They only had one hour to find someone else, and I could not decently leave a _subpar_ chef attend to poor Anathema and Newt, could I? It _is_ their honeymoon, after all… so I used a miracle. I didn’t have anyone in mind, I just intended for a very good chef to be available and willing to step in--”

Crowley gasped slightly and snatched his glasses off. “Oh, _Aziraphale_ … tell me you _didn’t_!”

“I couldn’t know it would be _him_!” wailed the angel.

“Angel, it’s a three weeks cruise! During holiday season! We were supposed to eat Christmas and new year’s meals at the Ritz! I booked four months ago! The _human_ way!”

“I know,” said the angel, looking at his clasped hands in shame.

“Excellent news, everyone!” called Allison, gesturing at everyone to gather around her. “We will have one of the world’s greatest chef and sous chef onboard for the duration of the travel. We will stop in two hours to pick them up. Everyone aboard!”

“The sssous chef too?” hissed Crowley, eyes widening in alarm. Aziraphale nodded miserably.

The demon gaped. “But they’re the one with the magic sssauces! You _love_ their lemon ssauce!”

Once more, the angel’s head bobbed sadly.

“Oh, _flames_! I can’t believe you did this!” Crowley shrugged and sighed heavily, then crossed his arms and turned his back to his friend for good measure. _Four months_ , that’s how long he’d been planning a perfect Christmas day for Aziraphale and now it was all ruined. Food was the most important part of it all and now they’d lost both the chocolate cake specialist and the sauce wizard.

“I am ever so sorry, dearest,” whispered Aziraphale. “I know you were looking forward to it, and I ruined it all.”

Crowley wasn’t good at soothing words. He was a demon, he didn’t do _nice_ , or _soft_ , or _caring_ , all right? So he couldn’t answer that after last year’s Christmas day, it had been really important to him to make this year’s festivities perfect, to the smallest detail. To erase the dread, the blood, and the cries, and replace them by perfect chocolate cakes and children’s laughters in his angel’s memory.

Saying this would be awfully embarrassing (and would probably make him puke) so instead he huffed loudly, and snapped his fingers.

“I’ll be damned again if we don’t have the _perfect_ holiday,” he snapped.

One second later, Allison waved to them, smiling a little tensely at the passengers that were finally allowed to board, and joined them in a half jog that betrayed her stress.

“Gentlemen, can I have a word with you? I know of course you did not intend to participate in the cruise, but you seemed so sad to see your little family sail away without you… I had to check with you before you go. I just had a cancellation for one of our suites. Would you be interested? We would offer you half the price. It would be like a second honeymoon,” she added with a tempting voice that had Crowley want to smile at her condescendingly.

He refrained. If they were going to do this, he wanted Aziraphale to enjoy himself and relax. No games.

“Actually, we aren’t--” he started.

“Well that is quite an exciting proposition!” cut the angel. “What do you think, dear? After all, we never got a real first honeymoon to begin with. It would be awfully romantic.”

The demon blinked. Then a huge smile spread on his face. “I think I’m in, angel. Book us in, miss.”

The woman smiled in relief and hastened away to fetch forms to fill, and Crowley turned to his friend. “Are you sure? We can still rectify it. It’s a three week cruise, I know you don’t like to be deceitful.”

Aziraphale brushed an invisible lint from his ‘husband’s’ shoulder (he’d read somewhere that couples did that sort of thing) and smiled fondly.

“But I like to see you enjoy yourself, dear boy. There is nothing wrong in a little harmless pretending. And I am certain dear Newt and Anathema will love nothing more than participating in the charade. You will certainly have a great lot of devilish entertaining ideas.”

Crowley’s smile widened into a blood-curling grin.

“Oh I will, angel. I certainly will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In chapter two, Aziraphale will take a very important decision in order not to waste Anathema and Newt's honeymoon.  
> Thank you megzseattle for this idea! I can't wait to write it!


	2. Day one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys are at sea and preparing for the first night onboard.  
> Decisons are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this one will make you smile^^

“I have been thinking,” declared Aziraphale, snapping his fingers to make his suitcase appear on the large, king sized bed of their cabin, “and we need to make ourselves inconspicuous.”

Crowley sent his glasses clattering onto the night-stand and yawned.

“Inconspicuous _how_? We’re not spies. Not today,” he added as an afterthought.

The angel tutted, opening his luggage and starting to pull out tan and beige (with the occasional spark of light blue) clothes.

“Newton and Anathema, dear. They are here on their honeymoon, and we told them we would leave them be. They probably think we are back to London by now. Better not tell them we tagged along, it would ruin their trip.”

“They _asked_ us to accompany them if we wanted, angel.”

Aziraphale waved that answer away. “It is supposed to be a _romantic_ getaway for them. We need to be discreet. It is a large ship, I am sure we can avoid them.”

Crowley sighed. Why do simple when you could complicate everything, right?

“It’s not _that_ big a ship. We could just tell them we’re here, and let them decide when they want to mingle and when they want to…” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “… _mingle_.”

Aziraphale continued to empty his suitcase, and Crowley was _almost_ sure he was pretending not to have understood his dirty joke. Finally, his brain registers his friend’s actions, and he made a face.

“Angel? What are you _doing_?”

Aziraphale blinked, a few buttons down (impeccably folded) in his hands.

“Whatever do you mean, dear boy?”

“Your suitcase. Why are you unpacking? couldn’t you just miracle your stuff into the dressing? We weren’t even supposed to _have_ suitcases to begin with!”

“Oh, do not be silly, Crowley, the staff will not see anything untoward, I made sure of it. And we are on a trip. One _has_ to pack a suitcase when on a trip. And unpack it the human way. It is the done thing.”

“ _It is the done thing,”_ mimicked Crowley in a mock tone.

“Do not be a spoilsport, dear.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Well, _you_ married _me_ ,” answered the angel, closing the dressing with great care. They exchanged a glance and smiled at the same time.

“Care to check if the bar is open, angel?”

“I thought you would never ask!” said Aziraphale with a happy wriggle.

* * *

“So, that _inconspicuous_ thing,” started the demon two hours later, nursing his sixth (or tenth) whiskey,* “how do you intend it to work out? It’s not like we can disguise ourselves, Anathema can see _auras_ , angel.”

*There was an excellent red available, that Aziraphale was currently sampling after trying every cocktail on the card, but Crowley had always thought that a glass of whiskey (neat) was the coolest thing someone could drink while on a cruise.

His friend, slightly slumped over the counter, pouted. “I _know_ that, Crowley! I am melre... melery... I am only saying we could check on their location and avoid them during the trip.”

Crowley scrunched up his nose. “Seems like a _Heaven_ of a lot of hard work. And there’s only one bar. Anathema intends to spend a lot of time here, you know.”

“Oh my God… murmured Aziraphale, stricken. There is only _one_ bar!”

As much as Crowley liked to tease and annoy his friend, he’d never been able to stand his crestfallen face for more than a few seconds.

“All right, all right, angel. No big deal. We’ll find a way. Don’t worry.”

“Maybe my idea was perhaps a little bit silly,” mumbled the angel.

A _little_? Wondered Crowley as he drunkenly reached out to vaguely pat his friend’s shoulder to cheer him up.

Aziraphale was sad, and feeling ridiculous. So what if the idea was silly? His angel was the smartest person in the universe, _yeah, God included, take that you sucker,_ and he was entitled to have silly ideas sometimes if he wanted.

He should embrace it, and have _fun_.

First thing Crowley had promised himself right after his fake trial and Gabriel’s awful words was that _no one_ would _ever_ make Aziraphale feel like that _ever_ again.

So no way he would stand by and watch that dejected stance take root. He needed to fix this, and quickly. _Distract him, divert attention, DO SOMETHING!_

Crowley was good at thinking fast in dire situations, and his imaginative mind didn’t disappoint. It took him only a minute before smiling at the beginning of an evil genius stroke. He looked at his glass, swirling the golden liquid casually.

“Naaaah. T’s an excellent idea,” he purred. “Kids deserve a real honeymoon, and I’m sure I can blend in so well no one will even spot me.”

The angel squinted his eyes at his tone of voice. “Crowley? What are you thinking about?”

The demon’s smile turned to a shark’s grin. “I’m thinking about getting inconspicuous. The most inconspicuously inconspicuous traveller in the history of sailing. Newt and Anathema won’t spot me. _No_ _one_ will recognise me!”

“Oh, dear,” quavered Aziraphale.

“It’s going to be great,” promised Crowley.

His friend shook his head, biting back a smile*. “Well, I am certain _someone_ at least will enjoy himself.”

*half nervous, half fond.

The demon gulped his drink and slammed it dramatically onto the counter.

“ _Exactly_.”

* * *

The door to one of the largest cabins onboard (Gold Honeymoon Suite was its name) opened and Newt smiled at his wife.

“You will never believe who I just spotted at the bar! Our favourite ethereal and occult entities!”

Anathema’s eyes widened. “ _No way!_ Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, positive.”

The witch bit her lips, delighted. “This is going to be _so_ much fun! I can’t wait to--”

Newt raised his hands. “Oh no, An, no! You can’t talk to them!” he pleaded. “They want to stay out of sight, give us our privacy, some stuff like that. Crowley is planning some stupid thing and I want to know what it is. _Please_ , let’s wait a day or two. Please?”

Anathema chuckled. “Oh, if you _insist_. Are you sure they didn’t see you?”

Her husband winked. “Plastered as they were? I doubt it.”

“I imagine that means the bar is unavailable right now. Well, it’s late, and Fyre’s asleep anyway. Let’s have fun tomorrow.”

“We can have fun tonight, you and me,” whispered Newt suavely, opening his night-stand drawer and pulling out a small cardboard box.

“Oh, I see you’ve still got stamina, you stallion. Okay, I’ll be banker!”

Newt sighed happily, reaching out to hand the cards to his wife, then froze, frowning worriedly.

“Oh. It’s kind of officially our honeymoon. Shouldn’t we have sex instead?”

Anathema kissed the tip of his nose and took the cards from his grasp. “I don’t know of any rule saying we can’t have both. You will need some cheering up once I’ve beaten you.”

Newt chuckled. “Bold words, Device, bold words!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no angst! I'm so proud of myself :D  
> Next chapter will be longer, with way more action.  
> Crowley is about to have some fun.


	3. Day two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is trying to relax in their own way.  
> Crowley is starting some games, and Aziraphale discovers a new kind of litterature.  
> Meanwhile, talk about a ghost onboard starts to spread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT MY EXAMS!!  
> Finally had my last results! I'm so freaking happy! No more classes, it's over! Now my Thursdays will be devoted to rest and writting, and I'll sign my permanent contract next week!

Crowley slowly opened his eyes, enjoying the gentle rocking of the sea and the hint of sunlight peering through the heavy curtains of their suite.

He stretched lazily, feeling undemonically happy.

His hand hit something warm. The demon froze.

“Good morning, Crowley.”

It usually took one hour, three coffees and a lot of yawning to get the demon’s brain into a more or less awaken state, but he got there in half a second, gasping and sitting up so fast a human would have felt a little dizzy.

“What the-- Are you _in bed?_ ”

Sitting next to him, hands primly folded over the silk blanket, the angel blinked, then nodded carefully. “Why, yes, I am.”

“You, _Aziraphale_ , are in bed?” insisted Crowley, intent on being sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

This got him an annoyed pout. “Really, dear, there is no need to react like this. I have used beds before.”

“Yeah, when you didn’t have a _choice_ ! When you were hurt, or… or exhausted, not like _that_!” cried the demon, getting up hurriedly.

Aziraphale in bed, calm and composed, not even reading, was unsettling.

“Is it the fact that I got into bed while you were there too that bothers you?” wondered his friend, frowning.

“Yeah, that’s it, angel, I’m concerned about my _virtue_ ,” sneered Crowley, who was always snippy before his first caffeine shot. “Why are you… did you _sleep_? Are you all right?”

With a put-upon huff, the angel got up (Crowley noticed he was wearing tartan pyjamas) and faced him, hands on his hips.

“No, I did not sleep. And I am perfectly fine. If you really want to know, I was trying to help _you_ , you ungrateful creature.”

“Help?” Crowley squinted his eyes. “What, why would-- oh. Was I… was I having a nightmare again?” he asked gruffly, looking away.

These blessed nightmares* had been a rarer occurrence in the last few weeks, and he was glad about it. Fear was not very _cool_ , and he was just starting to get used to falling asleep without apprehension. Was it coming back?

*Mostly, said nightmares featured fire and the bookshop.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no, dear boy! Not at all! You slept quite peacefully, I assure you! No, it was… well it was for the—the game.”

Crowley was feeling lost. “What game?”

“ _Your_ game. The pretending. You know, the...” the angel’s hands fluttered, encompassing the suite and the bed. “the _married_ thing.”

The demon tilted his head, frowning. “No one’s here to check if we sleep in the same bed, angel.”

“Yes, but I wanted to ease things a little for you, dearest.”

Crowley let out a string of consonants as he finally understood where his friend was going. The demon’s games, when involving Aziraphale, had unspoken rules: the angel would let him pretend all his heart’s desire, but never lie outright. Telling truths and letting humans come to their own (incorrect) conclusion was something Crowley would never tire of.

A slow smile finally settled onto the demon’s face as he imagined all the ways he could _not_ lie to people with the fact that the angel had been spending the night in bed with him, not sleeping _at all_ (he didn’t have to say that _he’d_ slept).

He could even say that Aziraphale had woken him up in a very unusual and _thoughtful_ fashion (no need to get specific on said fashion, right?).

“Oh, angel… you’re spoiling me.”

His friend shrugged his shoulder happily. “Well, it _is_ almost Christmas, after all.”

With a fond smile, Crowley put two fingers to his temple and closed his eyes, then nodded. “Ready for breakfast? Newt and Anathema aren’t in the dining room yet. If you still want to avoid them...”

“Oh, yes, thank you, dear. I am _famished_!”

The breakfast room was a dream. Tea, coffee, and every drink selection in between were available.

And the food! Aziraphale gasped at seeing the buffet*. It would have been a shame to miss this, decided Crowley as he settled with a cup of coffee, Aziraphale sitting next to him with a sampling of everything.

*Which was telling enough. The angel had _standards._

Crowley waited for his friend to have finished his scrambled eggs and bacon before speaking.

“So. No book?”

The angel, lost in a dreamy, sated state, looked at him questioningly. “Oh, I apologize, what were you saying, Crowley?”

“No book. This morning? You were in bed, not doing anything. Why weren’t you reading?”

Aziraphale pinched his lips and looked away, perfectly aware that his friend knew the answer already. “I did not need a book, that is all.”

“You didn’t _pack_ a book, you mean.” Crowley sighed heavily. “Angel, how come you always forget? You love to read, yet you always forget to bring books! Just-- just snap your god-blessed fingers!”

It was an old argument, and the lines were so familiar to both entities they didn’t even need to utter them. They still did, of course. Like an old jumper, nothing was more comfortable than a worn out disagreement.

“I cannot make books appear! We are on vacation! Travels require packing and unpacking, and if I forgot about something, then I shall have to do without! That is the _rule_! Humans do it that way!”

“You are such a--” Crowley stopped short, and shook his head. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, looking up over the rim of his teacup.

“A _what_?”

The demon rolled his eyes. “Nothing. Guess I’ll have to find you something other than wine bottle tags to decipher, that’s all.”

Aziraphale chuckled, taking a sip. “Oh, wine tags are _always_ interesting, but after three or four, one wishes for a more elaborate plot.”

Crowley eyed the gift shop, opening its doors. “Don’t worry, angel. Let me handle this.”

* * *

“Are they in?” whispered Anathema, rocking the stroller back and forth while Newt peered inside the breakfast room.

Newt shook his head. “No, the coast is clear.”

“Good. I don’t want to spoil their fun. Coffee?”

“Oh, definitely,” answered her husband fervently.

The night hadn’t been very restful, but neither of them was about to complain about it.

“I think I’ll head to the heated pool later. I miss swimming every day,” mused Anathema as she filled her plate with ham and cheese.

Newt looked up from the coffee pot. “You like to swim?”

“I grew up near the sea. Of course I like to swim.”

“I grew up on an island and I never learned how to swim,” answered her husband, reaching out for the sugar.

“Do you want to learn? I could teach you!”

Newt shivered. “Oh, no, thank you.”

The witch rolled her eyes. “Remind me why I married you?”

“Because I’m cute.”

She got up and kissed his cheek. “You are. See you in an hour, okay?”

* * *

Chaises-longues were part of the cruising experience, so Aziraphale was currently enjoying one of them in what was called the _Sun Room*_ , trying to understand what exactly was so exciting about it. He was getting a little restless, with no reason, of course. It had nothing to do with _books_ at all. He could perfectly occupy himself for three weeks without reading material.

*The glassed ceiling was probably at the origin of the name, but the weather didn’t seem to agree with it.

He sighed forlornly, looking around, and sent a little blessing to heal a man that had just knocked his pinky toe against a chair’s leg.

A rectangular object landed on his lap, and he blinked at it before looking up at a familial, grouchy face.

“The abduction of Lady Hargrove?” asked the angel in a polite, but puzzled voice.

Crowley shrugged. “Gift shop book. There’s plenty of others where it comes from. No Wilde there, I’m afraid.”

The angel nodded with a dubious pout, but picked up the tome. “I guess I should be the last person on Earth to judge a book from its cover.”

Crowley hid a grin. “In this case, you should. Believe me.”

“Based on their clothes, the story seems to be taking place in a very hot location,” mused the angel, pulling his round spectacles from his jacket’s pocket and putting them on to peer intently at the cover.

Crowley let out something that sounded like anything but an actual word. “I’ll be back in a few,” he finally managed.

“Mind how you go,” mumbled his friend distractedly, opening the book with great seriousness.

Crowley couldn’t leave fast enough. Spreading some low-grade evil would help him contain his laughter.

He headed to the deck, looked around at the few couples braving the cold morning breeze, then grinned slowly.

 _Inconspicuous_ , had said Aziraphale. He waited for no one to be in view, then concentrated on his corporation. Rapidly, he felt it starting to morph, taking another shape.

If Newt and Anathema happened to see him now, his aura would be the last thing they’d notice. Not that it really mattered, but he had promised the angel he’d _try_ , didn’t he?

Combing his fingers through artfully cut blond hair, he headed towards the helm.

Newt had never thought he would enjoy the sea this much. He was more of a land man, and had never wished to sail, but was happy to discover that he liked it. Crowley really had been very kind in offering them these tickets--

“Hey, how’s the kid doing?” asked the demon’s voice into his ear.

Newt startled and refrained from letting out a cry (Fyre was starting to doze off).

“Crowley!”

“What?” asked Crowley innocently.

Newt was looking him up and down. “What… wait, did you steal someone’s body?”

The demon rolled his blue eyes. “Does it look like a stolen body to you?”

The man gasped, recognition hitting him. “Oh, _Crowley_! You’re even dressed like him! What do you intend to do?”

The demon chuckled. “Done already. Check youtube, I think I’m already there.”

Newton frowned. “That’s not nice, I wanted to see that!”

“I’m not _nice_. And I didn’t want you to end on the internet. You’re a respectable father now.”

Said respectable father folded his arms. “Why did you come here and talk to me then? Aren’t you supposed to avoid us? I thought--” He stopped short and raised his hands. “Change first, please, I can’t talk to you like this, it’s very unnerving.”

“You once stood your ground in front of _Death_ ,” pointed the demon.

“And I would rather do it again than look at… this,” said the young man, waving at Crowley’s corporation. “He’s too good looking, I feel like a worm.”

“All right, all right. You’re so weird,” sighed Crowley, changing back to his usual, yellow-eyed body. “And this corporation is hot too, I’d have you know. You should feel like a worm all the same.”

“Nah, you’re less intimidating. So, weren’t you supposed to avoid us?” asked the young man, ignoring the demon’s indignant splutters.

Crowley glared at him before giving in. “I saw you last night at the bar. Figured I should come by and say hi, since you know we’re onboard.”

“You saw me? But you were talking about keeping your presence a secret, I heard you.”

Crowley nodded. “Oh, yes, Aziraphale didn’t notice you. He really wants you two to have a romantic trip, I couldn’t tell him you were there. You know how he is, always thinking he’s a bother to others.”

Newt grimaced. He could relate to that. A thought occurred to him and he turned to his friend with a frown.

“Wait a minute… you told me once that Aziraphale has eyes _everywhere_.”

“Yup.”

“So why didn’t _he_ see me?”

Crowley shrugged “You were behind him.”

“I thought he could see even in his back. I am certain you told me that.”

This time, the demon straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest, a little hurt.

“Why on _Earth_ would he need to watch his back when I’m facing him?”

Newt didn’t have an answer for that one. Putting his foot in his mouth was something he had learned to deal with years ago, and he reacted on instinct. “Sorry, of course you’re right.”

“You bet I am,” grunted the demon, mollified. “So, where’s Anathema?”

“Swimming pool. She wanted to exercise a little.”

“Good. See you later, okay? I’ve got work.”

* * *

“Hey, you two! How was your walk?”

Newt yawned and looked at the stroller. Fyre was playing with her feet. “It was great. How was swimming?”

“Refreshing. I’d kill for a good nap, though. Did she sleep at all?”

Newt sighed. “Not a wink. I don’t know how she does it. It’s like she only needs four hours a day. I thought babies were supposed to sleep _a lot_.”

Both parents watched their offspring peel off her right sock with a cry of triumph.

“I know the doctor says she’s fine. But I wish she would let us sleep a little more.”

“She let us sleep yesterday night,” reminded Newt with a grin.

“And we didn’t anyway,” chuckled his wife. “That wasn’t very reasonable.”

“Maybe we should have accepted Crowley’s offer to hire a nanny for the trip.”

Anathema made a face. “It seemed wrong to pay someone to watch after her while we are both here on vacation with her.”

“Why don’t you get back to the cabin and get a lie down, then we’ll switch?” proposed her husband.

The witch groaned. “I feel like I will never sleep enough no matter what.”

Newton nodded. “You know, we do have someone onboard that knows her and could take care of her while we rest...”

“We can’t ask Aziraphale, they are both trying to give us some privacy.”

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know yet!” exclaimed Newt. “Crowley knows we are aware of their presence. He talked to me this morning. Can you check something online? I think you’ll like his last game.”

The witch pulled out her phone. “What should I search for?”

A simple search was enough to get three different videos. All the same, from a different angle.

“Oh, God,” whispered Anathema, giggling maddly. “I wish I saw that.”

“I think you’ll be able to. Knowing him, he won’t stop there.”

On screen, the blurry but familiar face of a young Leonardo Di Caprio was yelling _“I’m the king of the world!”_

The helm of the boat was easily recognizable.

“ _I swear,”_ declared a voice, off camera, _“it was him! He was there, with the clothes he had in the movie! He just said his line, then he vanished! He really vanished!_ ”

“Do you think there will be reporters waiting at the next port?” asked Newt eagerly.

“Maybe a tabloid or two. If he does it again, I mean.”

“Oh, he _will_.”

  
  


* * *

Crowley always had been gifted at making friends. Or, at least, pretending to make friends. He only had to walk in, introduce himself, smile and let out a little demonic rush of temptation to gloat and boast, and humans were usually gathering around and trying to make everyone else envious in a matter of minutes.

“So you never had a real wedding?” asked Lucy, the secretary who had just gotten engaged to her three years boyfriend.

“Nah, never,” sighed Crowley, shaking his head in regret. “No big fancy wedding for us.”

“Our wedding was a grand affair,” cut in John, smiling as coldly as his wife Kathleen by his side. “It was a three days event, with more than eight hundred people.”

“Oh, my,” whispered a sweet voice right behind him, “How did you feed such a crowd?”

Everyone turned to look at the interloper. Crowley grinned.

“Hey, angel.”

“Hello, dearest. I was looking for you. Do you think you will need to sleep this afternoon? If that is the case, I would want to know where you found that book. I may need some more in the future weeks.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably need a nap. But aren’t you tired yourself?” Turning to the gathering of onlookers, Crowley smiled sweetly. “If I remember correctly, you didn’t get any sleep yesterday.”

The angel swatted his arm lightly. “Crowley, you _beast_! What happens in our bed shall stay strictly between us!”

“Sorry, angel,” chuckled Crowley, offering him his arm as they walked away, ignoring the scandalised whispers.

Aziraphale waited for them to be out of earshot to speak again.

“My dear?”

“Hm?”

“Did you by any chance impersonate a celebrity onboard?”

Crowley stopped walking and turned to his friend, eyebrows shooting up. “How do you know _that_?”

“I heard people talk about it, dear.”

The demon struggled not to gape. Aziraphale had seen the movie, but had fallen asleep halfway, which, considering the angel’s sleeping habits, was telling enough. Even if he hadn’t, Aziraphale never had understood the concept of movie stars. Harrison Ford, was, to him “That actor that plays the part of that Nevada fellow.”

“What do you think about it?” he finally asked.

“Well, I am quite happy about it, of course!” answered the angel, bouncing in excitement. “It is always such a good surprise to see humans remember talent after so many years. I would never have guessed that they would recognise him easily.”

Crowley frowned, and snatched his sunglasses off. He looked into his friend’s eyes for a handful of seconds, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Angel. What did you hear exactly?”

“Why, that Leonardo’s ghost was haunting the ship. The dear boy was such a clever chap.”

With a sigh of relief, Crowley put his glasses back on.

Where would the world go if Aziraphale thought of anyone else than Da Vinci in this context?

“That he was, angel. Lunch? I think there’s stroganoff on the menu today.”

His friend beamed so brightly the lights in the corridor flickered. “Oh, _Crowley_ ! That’s one of my _favourite_ meals!”

“Happy coincidence. Don’t look at me like that, I have nothing to do with it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost done too so you'll have it soon! I hope you liked this one!  
> Thank you all for your support! Kudos and comments are always a joy, I wish you and your loved ones a great Christmas in advance!


	4. Day three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema and Newt enjoy some privacy, while Crowley and Aziraphale have a HUGE fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy to write silly shenanigans for Christmas!!  
> I hope you all had a wonderful day yesterday!  
> Family time is over!! Now I'll (try to) focus on writing. And knitting^^.

“Oh dear,” murmured the angel, angling his book so that his face stayed hidden. He had little hope of staying unnoticed. Even if he had dimmed his aura and tried to stay immobile on his chaise-longue, his clothes stood out frightfully.

He should have checked the swimming pool as soon as he’d entered the room. But his book was so enthralling he had sort of lost himself in it, happy to have found a quiet, warm room to read in peace, and had only just noticed the woman that had been swimming so vigorously for the last thirty minutes was in fact Anathema.

The young woman was resting against the edge of the pool, facing the exit. He couldn’t leave, she would spot him in a second.

Unknown to both witch and angel, Crowley and Newt were watching the scene through one of the glass walls.

“I shouldn’t enjoy it this much, but it’s hilarious,” declared the demon, looking at his friend squirming on his seat.

“Come on, he’s trying his best, don’t make fun,” chided Newt.

Crowley made a face. “Ugh, you sound just like him.”

Baby Fyre, probably deciding this was a good time to make herself known, started to wail.

Fyre may be only a six month old baby, but she was a very important person. And she never hesitated to remind everyone of it when needed. Her cries could raise not only her parents when bottle time was up, but also most of the sleeping wildlife around the cottage, and, on one occasion, M. Tyler’s dog Shutzi.

Dolphins could hear her in this instant, and so could everyone in the pool room.

“There, there,” whispered Newt soothingly, rocking back and forth, as Crowley startled with a hiss, sunglasses clattering to the floor.

“What’sss happening? Is she _hurt_?”

“No, I think she’s sleepy. Or grumpy. I just fed and changed her, so it can’t be that.”

The demon gaped. “ _THAT’S_ her regular voice?”

“Yeah. She’s a little loud, isn’t she?” answered Newt with a proud (and slightly tight) smile.

“A _little_ ? She’s never made _that_ before! I would remember!”

Newt shrugged. “She’s always calm when Aziraphale’s around.”

“Oh, for the love of God”, mumbled Anathema, climbing the ladder to get out of the pool as her daughter's cries threatened to break the windows. . “You!” she shouted, pointing to Aziraphale, still trying to hide behind his book. “Stop being ridiculous! You’re the only one who can put her to sleep without a cry. You want us to have a nice, romantic honeymoon? How about you stop hiding, have a good time with us, and take care of Fyre once in a while if we need some privacy?”

Aziraphale squealed, frozen on the spot, as the witch stomped towards him like a hungry tiger towards its prey.

She stopped in front of him and crossed her arms. “You like spending time with Fyre, right?”

The angel blinked, bewildered. “Yes, of course,” he finally answered. “She is such a sweetheart.”

“And you want Newt and me to have some romantic time together?”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Then how exactly did you come to the conclusion that you had to stay away from us? We like spending time with you two, and Fyre adores you. Honestly, it would be great if you could watch after her for an hour every day so Newt and I can have some alone time. And we can all eat together and have fun the rest of the time!”

The angel’s hands fluttered helplessly. “But,” he finally managed, “It is your honeymoon, my dear girl!”

“You’re not the one choosing how I want to spend my honeymoon. I am a little cross at you for hiding, you know.”

Aziraphale’s face crumbled. “I never wanted to upset you, my dear!”

She smiled. “I know. And if you watch after Fyre right now for a little while, I’ll forgive you.”

“Oh!” The angel got up immediately. “Of course! Do you want to take a stroll with your husband? Take as long as you need!”

Newt and Crowley, realising that the game was up, were heading towards them. Anathema plucked the baby from her husband’s arms and kissed her cheek before handing her to the angel.

“Give us two hours. Then come knock at our suite.”

Crowley choked. Aziraphale beamed. “Of course, my dears, have a nice time!”

Hand in hand, the couple walked away. The demon shoved his hands in his pockets and raised an eyebrow at his friend with a lecherous grin. “I’m curious. What do you think they’ll be doing in their suite, _exactly_?”

Aziraphale was already cooing at Fyre, and didn’t even look up. “Oh, I believe the standard occupation during a honeymoon is intercourse.”

Crowley spluttered. “You-- you’re not supposed to _know_ that! You just wished them a _nice time!_ ”

“Why, of course! I certainly hope they will enjoy themselves. Now, my sweet little pumpkin,” he added to the baby’s intention, “how about you and I read together for a little while?”

Crowley gaped as his friend settled back on his chaise-longue, then narrowed his eyes and slowly settled next to him.

“Unbelievable,” he mumbled, shaking his head to hide his delight.

* * *

Anathema and Newt entered their room, hastily took off their shoes, and huddled together under the blanket.

“It’s my turn to be the little spoon, you cheater,” mumbled Newt.

A light snore answered him. The young man smiled and joined his wife to sleep.

* * *

“I did not know that bodices were that easy to tear...” wondered Aziraphale an hour later, frowning slightly at his book*.

*"The Viscount's scandalous engagement."

The swimming pool lounge, almost deserted when he first entered it, was gradually filling. Some of the vacationers were relaxing in the water, most of them dozing off in a chair, but all of them were way less clothed than the angel.

Crowley, sprawled on his chaise-longue next to him, yawned. “Cheap fabric?” he offered after a few seconds.

“Do not be ridiculous, dear. She is a _Duke’s_ daughter!” reminded the angel. Sitting on his lap, Fyre let out a loud “Ga!” of approval, slamming her hand on the book’s pages enthusiastically.

“Exactly, dear,” mumbled Aziraphale, gently prying her hand away from the tome and handing her a chewing toy.

Crowley’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “She touched your book,” he remarked. “With her sticky hands. You _hate_ when kids touch your books.”

“Do not listen to him, sweetheart. Your hands are not sticky.”

The demon crossed his arms and pouted, raising his voice. “I thought this trip was supposed to be like a second honeymoon for us, angel. But I see you’ll be spending all of your time with Anathema’s offspring.”

Aziraphale looked at him, frowning in confusion, then lit up and looked around conspiratorially. “Oh,” he whispered. Do you want us to have a fight, dear boy?”

He looked so thrilled at the prospect of a staged quarrel that Crowley had to refrain from smiling fondly and forced himself to roll his eyes instead. Aziraphale straightened up and summoned his haughtiest expression.

“Are you jealous of a _baby_ , my dear?” he said loudly, making a few people turn towards them.

Crowley shrugged. “Just saying that if it weren’t a baby, it would be a dog, or another book. You always seem to find better things to do than spend time with _me_.”

Aziraphale scowled. “If you intend on making yourself a nuisance, I suggest you take a walk for a while.”

The demon bared his teeth. “ _Fine_!” he snapped. “I’ll do that! Maybe I’ll find someone who would appreciate my company for a change!”

“Well not with _this_ attitude you will not!” answered Aziraphale icily.

Wearing simultaneous outraged expressions, both entities got up brusquely and walked away, Crowley towards the bridge, Aziraphale towards the dining room.

In the swimming pool lounge, everyone looked down, pretending not to have heard a thing, until they both got out. Then, frantic whispers echoes around the room.

Aziraphale let the door close behind him before smiling at the baby in his arms. “I think your uncle Crowley will have a lot of fun these next few days, dearest.”

He glanced at the book tucked in the baby bag, and smiled mischievously. “Now what do you say to settling at a table with some apple compote while we discover if the stable boy is the secret son of the Prince after all?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this year I have excellent Christmas presents figured out for the boys^^  
> I'm just late in the delivery, is all :D


	5. Christmas day-part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five days have passed, and the boys are enjoying themselves, each with his favourite activity.  
> Will this Christmas go as smoothly as Crowley had planned?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is absolutely nothing going on in this story and I love it.  
> I think I'll do it! I'll let the boys rest and have fun for a WHOLE story!  
> That's for the best, February is approaching after all. They need to take a break before that^^.

Crowley woke up to the sound of angelic singing.*

He yawned, stretched, grumbled and finally opened his eyes.

*That is to say the singing was made by an angel. Not that it was angelic to the ears. It was _not_.

“Good morning, Crowley! I have put your coffee on the nightstand.”

The demon sat up with a scowl. Coffee on the _nightstand_ , like an _animal_ , not handed to him as usual?

He opened his mouth to complain, took a look at his friend, and closed it with a pout.

“Can’t you just miracle her clean?”

His diaper days with the human child he had raised were two thousand years in the past, but he remembered perfectly that he had snapped his fingers as often as needed at the time. Thank Someone Reh was big enough to walk when he had become their guardian, and that awful time had been short. There was absolutely nothing cool about a soiled diaper. Or a clean one.

Aziraphale tutted. “I could, but it is so much more gratifying that way. Isn’t it, my precious?” he added in a sing-song voice to the baby, securing the second strap on the diaper. “Here we are, all nice and dry!”

Fyre giggled. Crowley took his mug of coffee with the stoic appearance of a martyr.

“You sound like Gollum,” he grumbled.

Aziraphale gasped. “How very _dare_ you!”

The demon grinned into his mug.

“I am heading to the breakfast room, do you want me to bring you back more coffee?” asked his friend, picking up the baby and heading to the door.

“Nah, I’ll join you there.”

“All right, see you in a moment then. Oh, and Crowley?”

He looked up from his phone absent-mindedly. “Hmm?”

“Happy Christmas, dear,” said the angel sweetly before closing the door.

Crowley’s phone dropped on the bed.

“It’s today already?” he asked the empty room. “Aw, shit!”

He downed his mug in a few gulps and snapped himself clothed. Count on Aziraphale to drop a bomb like that right before heading out. Bastard.

This year at least, the demon had acquired* his gift in advance.

*Acquired was a nicer way to say “stolen”.

With a glance at his reflection in the bathroom’s mirror (he couldn’t be seen as anything other than cool and sexy* after all), the demon teleported himself to the bookshop.

*Envy was not going to arouse itself.

A quick look around to check if everything was in order, and he took the stairs leading to the flat.

Aziraphale’s safe was an old, devious model that no amount of miracle would force open. Crowley entered the combination (4004) and smiled at the little package hidden behind Agnes Nutter’s book. He had known this would be the last place Aziraphale would think to check out. The angel was awfully curious and always tried to find Crowley’s gift before Christmas day, forcing his friend to think of unusual and clever hiding places.

To be honest, reckoned the demon as he pocketed the parcel, it had become some sort of competition between them.

With a last, stern look at his plants, he miracled himself back on the ship.

* * *

“Thank you so much for watching her tonight,” said Anathema, hugging her daughter with a radiant smile while Newton fixed a cup of tea for Aziraphale, who was focusing on piling as many crêpes as possible on his plate.

“It is no inconvenience. I do not sleep, and you two need rest. I can keep her company at night for all the duration of our trip without the slightest trouble,” answered the angel with a beam.

Newt exchanged a look with his wife. Aziraphale had taken Fyre for the night the last five days, and they were feeling a little bad about it.

“Stop that, you two, guilt always gives me foot aches. Reminds me too much of churches,” grumbled Crowley, stealing a chair at the table near theirs without asking* before sprawling on it like a drunk rock-star.

*There was still an empty chair at his friend’s table, but where was the fun in using it?

“What a happy surprise for you to join us at last, _my dear_ ,” said Aziraphale in an acrid tone, looking away with pinched lips.

“If my presence bothers you, you can still go for a walk, _angel_ ,” answered the demon in the same tone.

“Do you have to be that obnoxious on Christmas day, Crowley?” hissed Aziraphale.

His friend chuckled darkly. “I intend to be _until death do us part._ Remember?”

The angel stood up brusquely. “That could be arranged!”

“Guys,” snapped Anathema, looking around.

Both entities followed her motion. The breakfast room was silent and intent, all eyes on them.

With a growl, Crowley pushed his chair away and stomped out of the room. Apparently unfazed, Aziraphale sat back and continued his meal. Slowly, conversations started to buzz anew around them, in hushed, pressing voices.

“You’re still playing, right?” whispered Newt, a little anxiously. Aziraphale looked up from his plate.

“Oh, my dear, of course we are!”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure.”

* * *

The advantage of being an immortal entity whose true body extended over several different planes was that, when in need to pretend to be mad at your best friend, you could still check on him without being caught.

A very angry demon entered the pool room at ten o’clock and slithered across it in a fashion that looked at the same time wrathful, predatory and alluring. He walked past his “husband’s” chaise-longue without a glance, and Aziraphale didn’t even look up, but to anyone watching them,* the way his entire demeanour suddenly tensed left no doubt wether he’d noticed his other half.

*Everyone in the room.

To human eyes, the air seemed cold enough between those two to create an iceberg big enough to sink the ship. On another plane, the angel and demon greeted each other fondly and even managed to exchange a few sentences without a word _(no, Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowley’s watch, and yes, he actually was starting to feel a little parched, thank you, dear.)_

Crowley draped himself over a chaise, managing against all odds to appear both languid and dangerous, and waved his hand at the barman who was carrying two cocktails on a plate near him and looked quite surprised to find himself there to begin with.

The second cocktail ended in Aziraphale’s hand, and the barman shrugged and left the room, deciding not to question how or why he’d made the drinks in the first place. These two customers had taken the habit to slip him a tenner every time he handed them a drink*, and after a while you tended to accept any quirks from such good tippers.

* _Every_ drink. And they drank. A. Lot.

For a moment, the angel enjoyed his cocktail and his book, letting his mind wander to the other side of the world, in the mountains bordering what was these days called Nepal. This young lady should, in his opinion, start to wear heavy woollen trousers instead of dresses (or, at least, under said dresses) or she would die of cold before the end of chapter two.

Turning a page, he tutted in disappointment. Of course she’d survived without so much as frostbite. Accuracy didn’t mean anything anymore, did it? 

A shadow fell on his page and he felt that surge of anger every reader in the world experienced when interrupted without warning. Then, with an inward sigh, he looked up amiably.

“Mr. Fell?” asked Kathleen with the sweet, helpful, patronizing expression he’d seen hundreds of times over the years.

Of course _Kathleen_ would feel the need to meddle. She and her husband John had apparently decided they were the only two perfect, superior beings onboard* and needed to help every other passenger to attain perfect happiness in life by pointing out their ‘failings’ and explaining how to rectify them.

*And, probably, on Earth.

Aziraphale refrained from pouting _. Oh, dear, I will never finish this chapter before teatime_.

“Yes, my dear? Can I help you?”

Kathleen tilted her head with what she certainly thought was a compassionate and sympathetic smile, but only made the angel cringe internally.

“I think it is _I_ who can help _you_ , Mr. Fell. I know you must feel awful, but believe me, this is probably a blessing.”

 _Oh_ , thought the angel, raising an eyebrow. “I do beg your pardon? Why on Earth should I feel awful?”

“Come now, we all can see your relationship is hitting a rough patch. You may feel like there’s nothing to salvage, but I am certain you can smooth things over if you only made a _little_ effort.”

At the other side of the room, Crowley started to cough, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Aziraphale squinted his eyes and brandished his book like a shield between him and the human. “My dear lady, if there is one thing in this universe I am certain of, it is that I do _NOT_ intend to follow your advice.”

Kathleen straightened up, incensed. “ _Fine_! Don’t do a thing! But don’t come to complain when you end up alone!”

She walked away with haughty strides, let out a “I don’t even see why you married him in the first place,” to Crowley, who had stopped coughing, and exited with her nose held up so high she only avoided collision with a member of the staff by some kind of miracle.

Angel and demon exchanged a glance and followed suit, empty glasses nowhere to be seen. Not that anyone noticed. The drama was way too riveting to keep track of cocktail glasses.

“So,” started Crowley with a smirk once they were both out of earshot. “Do you intend-”

Aziraphale glared at him. “I swear to God, Crowley, if you finish that sentence I will smite you into oblivion.”

The demon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, ignoring his friend’s words entirely

“-to _make an effort_ for me?”

“Crowley, I will _annihilate_ you,” declared the other matter-of-factly.

“Only a little one, angel. You heard the lady. Size doesn’t matter.”

“I do not know why I put up with you.”

Crowley grinned. “It _would_ salvage our relationship.”

“That’s it. I won’t give you your gift, you foul fiend!”

The demon chuckled, but wisely decided to stop. It was always the best move when the angel was starting to use contractions.

“Aw, don’t be like that. Let’s get some tea. My treat.”

Aziraphale’s expression went from outraged to pouting in less than a second. “Oh, all right, you horrid beast.”

Crowley straightened up, strutting. “That I am. And don’t you forget it.”

They took a few more steps in companionable silence.

“Soooo...” started Crowley, looking intently at his nails as if to find a fault in his black polish.*

*Like it would _dare_ to flake.

The angel turned to him with an innocent look. “So what, dear boy?”

Crowley pouted. “Come on, I said I’ll buy you tea. When do we exchange gifts?”

Aziraphale looked down at his hands and fidgeted nervously with the hem of his waistcoat. “I would rather do this later, in private. Tonight, after we retire in our cabin? If you do not mind, of course.”

Crowley minded. He minded _very much_. His friend’s attitude was ringing all kinds of very concerning bells in the part of his brain that was devoted to analyse and decipher the angel’s body language.

“Not at all,” he lied.

Aziraphale smiled in relief.

 _What have you_ done _, angel?_ Wondered Crowley.

This was going to be a frigging long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I added ANOTHER chapter.  
> STILL. (almost) NO. ANGST.  
> So proud of myself.


	6. Christmas day-part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love declarations!  
> Christmas gifts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was afraid this chapter would be a little too serious for the rest of the story, but it turned out way funnier than I thought!  
> Thank you, Meg, for your precious advice!!!!

The night’s air was surprisingly warm for the end of December, and Crowley, leaning against the railing on his elbows, was alone on deck only by convenient devilish miracle. He sighed softly, looking up at the stars. He could perfectly distinguish the two bright suns of Alpha Centauri with his demonic eyes. Could even make out Proxima if he squinted a little.

A warm, comforting hand touched his back, and Crowley hummed in greeting, still looking at the sky.

“You seem very far away, my friend.”

“Was thinking...”

Aziraphale settled next to him, their shoulders brushing.

“About what, dear boy?”

The demon shrugged. “How things would be, had Armageddon ended differently. One of us would probably be dead.”

“Do not be ridiculous, Crowley,” chided the angel, frowning.

The demon finally tore his eyes away from the sky and looked at his friend in irritation.

“Ridiculous? _Me_ ? Aziraphale, there’s _no_ way we could have both lived had the war taken place!”

Aziraphale huffed in annoyance. “I know that. I am only saying that one of us surviving is a ridiculous notion.”

Crowley gaped, eyes widening in horror. “You think our sides would have destroyed us anyway?”

“Maybe, but that isn’t the point. Do you honestly believe I would have been willing to live had you been annihilated in the war?”

The demon’ eyes widened in shock. Aziraphale rolled his eyes with a put upon sigh.

“Honestly, dear, I know you would have felt the same. Is it so difficult to imagine? Or do you believe I do not care for you as much as you do for me?”

Crowley bared his teeth*. “OI! Take that back!”

*He was, in fact, as much indignant about the angel saying out loud that he, a big bad demon, _cared_ , as about the actual question.

“You know I am right. I do love you very much, Crowley.”

Crowley blinked, still as a statue. “Ngk,” he said intelligently. 

This was a nightmare. Had to be. The four letter L word? No freaking way! His first impulse was to slam his friend against a wall, but it was Christmas*, so sarcasm would have to suffice.

*And he hadn’t received his gift yet.

“Oh, so you looove me, angel? I didn’t know you were falling for me. So sorry to have to disappoint you.”

He met a very dirty glare. Replayed the sentence in his mind. _Ah, yes._

Crowley laughed nervously, scratching his neck. “I didn’t mean _Fall_ , fall, just-”

“Oh, shut up, you nuisance. I am being serious, so stop changing the subject.”

“Well any human hearing you right now would think you’re _romancing_ me,” snapped Crowley, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with a pout.

“Oh, no, whatever would we do? Someone thinking I am romancing _my own pretend husband_? God forbid!”

“You know, angel, you’re pretty good at sarcasm when you put your heart into it.”

“One has to develop the skill after a few centuries in your company,” grumbled Aziraphale. “Anyway, as I was saying, I _do_ love you. And I know how much you love m-”

“Oh, for the love of _everything_ that’s unholy, _shut_ _uuuuuup_!” hissed the demon urgently.

Aziraphale smiled innocently. “Why would I? I am only speaking the truth.”

Crowley’s arms flayed about frantically. “It’ss not a reason to _sssay_ it! What is _wrong_ with you? Are you mad at me? Why are you saying such disgussting things, angel? What did I _do_ to deserve this?”

The angel raised an eyebrow with deliberate composure. “Crowley, dear. You are overreacting.”

“Am NOT!”

Aziraphale bit his lips to prevent a chuckle. The demon snarled.

“Stop making fun of me or you’ll be the one with no gift today,” groaned Crowley.

The angel held his hands up in surrender. “All right, dear boy, I apologise. And I promise never to talk about such undemonic feelings ever again.

His friend nodded sharply, a little mollified. “Demons don’t _care_ ,” he grumbled, leaning against the banister again.

“Of course they do not,” answered Aziraphale soothingly.

“And if they do, they don’t bloody go around _saying_ it. Not very smart if you want to survive in Hell. Don’t want anyone to hear you talk about me like that. It’s just disgusting.”

The angel tilted his head. “Crowley. Dear boy, we are living together and hardly spend a day without each other’s company. We prevented Armageddon together. How can Hell not know already that there is some sort of affection involved?”

Crowley made a face. _Affection_ was not any better than _care_.*

“I never said they were smart, angel. They probably think of an alliance of some sort. Trust isn’t common currency in Hell. Except for Beelzebuth who’s seen us together, most of Hell must think we have some kind of...”

He trailed off, searching for the right word.

“Arrangement?” provided Aziraphale with a bastardly smile.

Crowley chuckled.

*But way better than the _other_ word.

Aziraphale looked back towards the dining room. “Our friends have retired for the night. Do you want to exchange gifts now? Or have a few drinks first?”

The demon grinned. “Presents. I really want to know what’s so secret about yours. We can still hit the bar later.”

His friend smiled back nervously. “Very well, then. After you, my dear.”

The walk back to their suite was short, but Aziraphale’s anxiety was growing quickly, and by the time they entered the room Crowley had to fight an urge to let his fangs and claws grow in preparation for a fight.

_No one is going to attack us. It’s just a bloody gift._

Why was the angel acting like this? He was now facing one of the walls, hands clasped together, and Crowley rapidly opened his nightstand drawer to retrieve a little, square object. Anything to ease the tension in the room.

“Happy Christmas, Aziraphale,” he mumbled, all but throwing the parcel into the angel’s hands.

“Oh!” said his friend, blinking in surprise. For a while, he only looked at the object, turning it slowly in his hands.

“Do you intend to stare at it all night?” asked the demon brusquely.

“Ah. I apologise, dear boy,” chuckled Aziraphale as he started to open it.

Crowley groaned inwardly, blessing himself under his breath. Way to go, really, snapping during gifts exchange. Well, at least the angel was finally smiling, as he finished unwrapping his present.

Aziraphale gasped, his eyes widening in recognition.

“This is my old snuffbox!”

Crowley grinned. “Yup. Sure is.”

“Oh, _Crowley_!” said his friend in the tone of voice he usually reserved for daring, last minute rescues or meeting again after a century.

The demon shrugged, trying to appear cool and indifferent.*

“Not that big a deal.”

*He only succeeded in appearing smug.

“Of course it is! I lost it two centuries ago! Where did you find it?”

“Museum.”

Again, Aziraphale gasped. This time, in outrage. “Crowley! This is stealing!”

“No it’s not. It’s retrieving stolen property,” crooned the demon.

His friend squinted his eyes and thinned his lips, but could hardly argue with logic he’d used a lot himself in the past.

He looked back at the gold and enamel box with its engraved angel’s wings and smiled again.

“I did miss it so very much… thank you, my dear.”

“I know you did. Don’t mention it,” retorted the demon, shoving the tip of his fingers in his pockets.

After a last delighted look at the object, Aziraphale put it delicately on the bed and glanced at his friend strangely, then nodded to himself, jaw squared, and fished an envelope out of his coat pocket.

Crowley tried very hard not to look wary as he took it.

“Happy Christmas, Crowley.”

“What’s that?” hissed the demon, holding the envelope in disgust.

It reeked of Heaven.

“Just open it, dear. Please.”

The ‘Please’ was enough to push Crowley into action.

“It’s… A visitor’s pass to Heaven?” said the demon slowly, frowning.

Aziraphale’s face took a very soft edge.

“No, Crowley. This is a visitor’s pass to Paradise.”

“Paradise?” repeated the demon, his eyes not leaving the scrap of paper.

“It took some time, but I filled every form and it is quite official now. No one can refuse you access, I made sure. You can go there and visit your child.”

Crowley shook his head, frowning in confusion. “I can... what?”

Aziraphale reached out and took his friend’s hand in his own. “You can visit Reh, once a year, from now on. I made sure the authorisation was approved in every way. No one can refute it now.”

“I can see them?” whispered Crowley, eyes still fixed on the paper.

“You can.”

“Every year? I can see them every year?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Gabriel will come back in four years. He will--”

“No, Crowley. No one would. I have been _very_ thorough. I filled _all_ the forms imaginable. Not even Gabriel can undo this now. I assure you I made sure of it.”

The demon still stared blankly at the paper in his hand.

“It feels so strange,” he finally whispered. “Sometimes I wonder if it was all a dream.”

“Well, you never talk about them, and I know how sensitive a subject it was for you. But I always thought it awfully unfair for you not being able to visit. Since you are not working for Hell anymore, and you raised them as a mother or father would, I thought nothing was truly preventing you from seeing them now.”

“Do they know?” asked Crowley.

“They do. They look forward to seeing you. Unfortunately, it will only take effect at the date of their passing.”

“So. I will be able to see Reh in four months.”

Aziraphale nodded meekly.

“Are you… how do you feel, my dear?” he asked with caution.

Crowley looked up, glasses firmly in place, and offered a faltering smile.

“Like I didn’t get you enough snuff boxes.”

The angel chuckled, feeling his apprehension dissolve entirely. He had known Crowley would want to see his child again if he ever had the opportunity, but the secret had eaten at him for months and he was grateful to see that his dear friend was taking the news so well.

“I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. I did not want to talk about it before-”

“Yeah. False hopes, I get it,” cut in the demon. “Probably for the best.”

A few more minutes passed, Crowley still staring at the paper and the Heavenly filigree on it.

“All right!” declared the angel brusquely, making his friend startle. “How about a drink?”

“You know what?” answered Crowley, tucking the envelope in his jacket pocket, “I think I would be amenable to a glass or two. Wine?”

Aziraphale tutted. “My dear fellow, _champagne_! I have been reunited with my long lost snuffbox. If that is not a cause for celebration, I do not know what is!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ONCE AGAIN I am angry at myself^^  
> I intended to add something about Reh in last chapter! And of course I forgot and only remembered today, WAY too late!!  
> So I fixed it, added a little scene with Crowley remembering his time as a mum/dad at the begining of last chapter, when Aziraphale is changing a diaper.  
> So sorry about that...
> 
> To the new readers: Crowley took care of a human child 2000 years ago, and raised them, being a parent to them. He was awfully sad when they passed away after a happy life, and never was able to talk to them again since they were in Heaven.


	7. The day Troubles began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate cake is had, somebody says horrendous things to Crowley and Aziraphale's popularity is rapidly sinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this is a funny one!  
> Yes, I added TWO chapters^^  
> I just can't let go, I love writing this so much...

“Crowley, are you all right?” asked Anathema the following morning, frowning slightly.

The demon slouched on the chair next to her, his coffee miraculously not spilling in the process.

“Why? Don’t I look all right?”

“Your aura is all...” the witch waved a hand. “Messy.”

Crowley let out a grunt, burying his face in his cup.

Anathema’s frown deepened and she squinted her eyes, clearly not about to change the subject.

“Crowley, is there a pro-”

“He is fine,” cut Aziraphale with a stern look. A sudden silence had him realise he’d been a little loud in his affirmation. After a few seconds, the buzz of conversation in the breakfast room picked up again, full of whispers.

“Oh, that is just peachy,” sighed the angel forlornly.

Newt and Anathema were looking at him, the first with surprise, the second with even more concern than a minute before.

“Are you all right?” finally asked Newt. “Because you don’t look like it.”

Crowley sighed. “We’re both great. I just have news to process. Good news,” he added as Anathema opened her mouth again. “Can we change the subject?”

The witch shot him a contemplative look, but her husband smiled and slid his chocolate cake slice towards Aziraphale.

“Here, that’ll cheer you up. It was the last one.”

The angel blinked at the cake that had appeared right under his nose.

“Oh, but my dear, it is yours, I couldn’t possibly steal someone else’s food!”

Crowley scoffed, amused. He’d had his fair share of cakes stolen by an unrepentant angel over the centuries.

“I took it for you,” lied Newt. “I’m not into chocolate today.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, shining with emotion.

“Oh, my dear Newton. Thank you ever so much! I will never forget your kindness.”

“He won’t,” affirmed Crowley, tapping something on his phone before looking up at the human couple. “Is the kid asleep?” he asked calmly.

Anathema raised an eyebrow and pointed to the stroller where a very content Fyre was snoring lightly.

Not looking up from his cake, Aziraphale snapped his fingers. Crowley grinned and hit “send” on his phone, then put it on the table* before taking a refill of coffee. Newton clumsily let his fork slip from his grip, like he did at least twice every morning.

*As far away from Newton as possible.

Crowley’s phone started to ring at its loudest volume, Princes of the Universe resounding into the quiet room. On the screen, Adam’s name flashed.

Everyone turned to their table in outrage, waiting for Crowley to get up and take his call outside or cut off his phone and apologise.

The demon took a sip of coffee, looking out the window dreamily. Aziraphale wiggled in delight as he ate another spoonful of cake.

Newt blushed and looked down at the tablecloth, trying not to take the glares personally.* Anathema took his hand, biting her lips as she did her best to act like everything was perfectly normal.

*When you had a tendency to break every electronic device you touched, you became used to being looked at angrily pretty fast.

In her miraculously soundproofed stroller, Fyre smiled in her sleep.

* * *

Crowley snickered as he entered the sunroom, his phone trapped between shoulder and ear. “Yup, it was great, Adam. Perfect timing. Oh, yeah, they were absolutely pissed off, you should have seen their faces.” He listened for a few seconds and grinned. “Yes, you deserve an ice cream… Yeah, the others will get one too.”

He rolled his eyes and let himself fall on the chaise longue near Aziraphale, who looked up from his book questioningly.

Crowley yawned. “I don’t know, kid. At least until New Year. But we will still be there to pick you up on the 8th... Okay, we’ll call you tomorrow. Say hi to everyone.”

“How is Adam?” asked the angel, getting back to his book.

The demon grinned. “Great. His hand is blue.”

Aziraphale looked up, startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“He pulled the fire-alarm to avoid literature test and got sprayed with ink. I wonder how long he’ll be able to hide it. Schoolmaster is going to inspect everyone’s hands tomorrow.”

“Why ever is there ink sprayed at someone trying to alert people of a fire?” wondered Aziraphale, straightening up.

Crowley shrugged. “It’s a school. Kids would do this all the time without it.”

“Why did he do it, then?”

“It’s not like he knew it would be booby-trapped, angel!”*

“Well,” declared the angel with a displeased little frown, “if Adam didn’t know about it, I imagine he was the first one to try it. I do not think such an awful contraption is needed. What if the ink got into someone’s eye? And what about real emergencies?”

Crowley snickered. “You’re cross because you’re imagining stains on your coat.”

“I certainly am. Where is this world going if good Samaritans get their clothes stained!”

“Aziraphale, good Samaritans don’t care about stains. They tend to cut their coats in half.”

His friend’s frown deepened. “It was St Martin.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Ha! You perfectly know what I meant, you’re just grumpy!”

“Anyway,” snapped the angel, his lips tightening in a firm line. “I am really disappointed in Adam.”

Crowley tilted his head with a pout. “Aw, don’t be like that. He’s a little helion, yes, but he’s a good kid. Kids need to rebel once in a while.”

The angel glared at his book like he was trying to put it on fire. “Rebel against literature! It’s like a stab in the back. I have half a mind to replace his gift with coal.”

*Neither of the entities imagined for even a second that Adam would miracle the stain off. The Antichrist tried his best to live exactly as his friend did, and miracles gave an unjust edge. They were reserved for real emergencies. Plus, finding a way not to get caught in this particular instance would be awfully fun.**

**Adam didn’t get caught, thanks to Wensley’s knowledge of chemistry.

* * *

Newton was happy. He was having a fantastic cruise with his wonderful wife and child, he just had the most delicious virgin pina colada in his existence, and he’d found The Times, crisp and fresh out of press, right on the chair he’d decided to sit on.

Without wondering how such a feat was even possible since the boat hadn’t stopped for the last 48 hours*, he opened it and started his reading with a contented sigh.

*He perfectly knew how. Renouncing that chocolate cake had been a great decision.

Not very far away, the angel was rambling, walking near Crowley around the room.

“...and I think we shall enjoy the stopover in Malta, my dear. It has been such a long time since we were last here together!”

Crowley nodded slightly. “Lots of rare flowers there. Could do with a quick peek, I guess.”

The angel beamed. “I am sure we will have a tremendous amount of fun! Oh, hello Mr. Smith!” he added louder, waving at the man at the other side of the room.

Mr. Smith was an old, quiet man who was enjoying the cruise on his own. He always walked with a cane, and almost never talked. The only person whose company he seemed to enjoy was Aziraphale, who had been treated to the story of his entire life on the second day aboard.

The angel had a soft spot for the old timer, Crowley knew it. So, seeing the man hit the edge of a door and drop his cane didn’t make him smile as it would have with anyone else*.

*Except, of course, his neighbour, an adorable old lady, or Mr. Fitzpatrick, Aziraphale’s butcher, or, well, every elderly person he knew personally, to be honest.

The old man stumbled and time seemed to slow down for a second. Aziraphale let out a small cry of distress, his hands raising. Crowley groaned.

Mr. Smith blinked as a hand grabbed his arm, steadying him. He looked up into the dark glasses of that nice Mr. Crowley.

“Oh, thank you, my boy.”

Crowley, who was already frowning, seemed even more peeved. “Don’t mention it,” he said, letting him go.

“You are such a thoughtful young man,” added Mr. Smith, hobbling away.

“Certainly not,” hissed Crowley, turning back towards his “husband”, only to be stopped by Kathleen, of all people.

“But he is right, Mr. Crowley,” started the woman in that syrupy tone that always made the demon’s skin crawl, “I know your partner isn’t really boosting your self-esteem, but I assure you, you are a delightful man.”

Crowley’s eyes widened behind his glasses. It didn’t happen often, but he felt speechless. Eventually, he opened his mouth and let out a sound made uniquely of consonants. 

Kathleen touched his chest, not in a flirting fashion (that would have been something he could handle) and nodded sadly. “You are a kind, wonderful person, you should know it. Everyone onboard thinks so.”

Aziraphale, who’d rapidly walked to join them, gasped, and positioned himself between Kathleen and his friend.

“How dare you!” he snapped angrily. “Crowley is nothing of the sort! He is an evil, vile, wicked creature! Do not listen to that woman, my dear,” he added, grabbing the demon’s elbow to steer him away from the human who’d dared insult his best friend.

Everybody’s eyes followed them until they exited the room.

“Oh, gosh. I couldn’t believe you, but you were right, Kathleen,” said Ms. Robertson a little shakily. “Mr. Fell is awful to his husband!”

No one noticed Mr. Pulsifer, hiding behind his paper, shoulders trembling under suppressed laughter.

But, after all, Mr. Pulsifer wasn’t a very noticeable man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have NO idea if UK has that kind of fire alarm in schools! I read about it when I was a kid and it terrified me, I was so afraid there would be a real fire and I would have to do it while knowing a shower (imagination, my sweet friend) of ink would drench me.  
> I don't think they use those where I live but I HAD to use it in a fic :)


	8. Kathleen and John to the Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is enjoying a nice day in Valetta.  
> Crowley realises that someone is trying to ruin his game.  
> You do not want to anger a demon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an EXCELLENT week-end for writing!  
> This chapter, like Crowley's latest game, got out of control, so I had to cut it in half.  
> Last one is already half written! I really loved writting this fic, it was such a pleasure to have the boys enjoy themselves without getting hurt.

The ship had made port in Valletta, and the passengers were ready to disembark. Allison supervised it all, going from one person to another, careful to have a word for everyone.

“How are you all faring?” she asked with a smile, stopping near another group.

She liked these four. Especially the young parents. The older gay couple had been one of her favourite at first, but she’d heard that they were fighting nastily, and didn’t like it at all.

It was her job to make sure everything went smoothly onboard, and she studied the two men as they turned to her.

They didn’t seem to be fighting right now. She wondered if the two passengers that had come to her to complain had been exaggerating*. It wouldn’t be a first. Amazing how tension could build swiftly between strangers when you locked them in a floating box for a few days.

*She had been wary of Kathleen since the beginning. That woman was a troublemaker. Eleven years working in the tourism industry had taught Alison to recognise her kind.

“Just splendidly!” answered the fair man with a beam that had Allison smile back instantly. The man  _ really  _ was nice. 

“We will start to disembark in a few minutes. Do you want a map of the city?” she asked, already handing one over from the stack under her arm.

“Oh, no, thank you dear girl. We have been here numerous times before, isn’t it, Crowley?”

His husband shrugged, and reached out nonchalantly. “It’s been a while. Maybe that place you want to eat in doesn’t exist anymore. Won’t hurt to have some other addresses.”

Alison’s eyes widened as she gave Mr. Crowley the map. “Oh, I really like your polish!” she gasped.

That kind of shiny black was beautiful, exactly what she’d been searching for lately. She took a hold of herself and blushed a little at her outburst. How unprofessional of her.

The man gave her a crooked smile and wiggled his fingers, red glints shining briefly on the tip of his fingers.

“Yeah? That old thing?”

“It is simply gorgeous. You’ve done them perfectly!”

He chuckled, and turned to his husband, who was talking animatedly with Mrs. Pulsifer.

“Hey, angel!”

Mr. Fell turned to him questioningly.

“Got a compliment on your handiwork,” said Crowley, barely nodding to his hand.

Aziraphale’s pleased expression brightened even more and he smiled at Alison. “Oh, thank you my dear!”

“I’ll give you the reference,” murmured Crowley before joining his group, hands in his pockets.

Alison watched as Mr. Fell pointed to the marketplace on the right, explaining animatedly something about a treasure being buried there during the crusades, and felt her heart swell as Mr. Crowley corrected him and the two started to bicker playfully.

Kathleen was obviously trying to stir trouble, she decided. There was no sign of any tension between those two. They were absolutely adorable together.

She’d warn the staff to watch Kathleen and her husband closely, and keep her updated if they tried to create trouble.

* * *

The little tavern the angel was so fond of was still opened, which was a good surprise. The menu had changed, but still featured kannoli, so everything was right and perfect on Earth at the moment. Crowley straightened his legs lazily, finished his glass, and let a corner of his mouth turn up. had he been able to, he would have purred in satisfaction. There was a bright ray of sunshine falling just right to warm his serpentine limbs. It lit Aziraphale’s hair like a halo.

Life was good, decided the demon, rapidly checking on Newt and Anathema’s presence less than a mile away. Yes, still healthy and happy.

They had decided to split up for the day, give the little family some time on their own. Il-Belt was an awfully romantic city when you knew where to go, and they’d given their humans friends all the tips they could think about.

Crowley yawned. Looked at his empty glass. “How about another bottle of Gellewza, angel?”

Aziraphale put his fork down, batted his eyes in delight, then straightened up in his seat with a shocked, righteous expression.

“Oh,  _ no _ , Crowley! We already drank one, and it is barely the beginning of afternoon. What would the waitress  _ think _ ? Absolutely  _ out _ of the question!”

He pouted with his  _ now why don’t you try and make me change my mind, dear boy?  _ that Crowley knew very well.

A wave of human contempt hit the demon as he prepared to playfully answer to his friend, and his head shot to the side. Someone was  _ listening _ to their conversation.

There he was, at the counter, only a few feet away.

“Be right back,” growled Crowley as he stood up, ignoring the angel’s befuddled face and heading to the man, trying to remember his name.

John, he thought. Yes, that was it, John. Kathleen’s husband. Of course. The man tilted his head and wandered away, out of earshot, realised the demon.

“What are you doing here? Ssspying on uss?” he hissed as he reached him.

John only smiled compassionately. Crowley felt sick with it.

“Why are you staying with him? He berates you all the time,” said the human, shaking his head in commiseration.

Crowley frowned. Berate? They hadn’t been playing at all since they’d disembarked, too happy to wander the streets of one of their favourite towns and reminisce old memories. It was fun to see someone gasp in outrage at one of their staged fights, but another thing entirely to have a stupid human think badly of his angel in any other situation.

John must have taken his silence for an answer, since he put his hand on the demon’s shoulder, squeezing it with a sigh.

“You can’t see it anymore. He just forbade you to _ drink _ , Mr. Crowley. He’s controlling your life! You can’t live like this, it’s not healthy. Your husband is a  _ bad _ man, you have to realise it sooner rather than later. Everyone onboard thinks like me and Kathleen. We can help you! If only you let us-”

Crowley’s mind, which had come to a rather brutal stop a few seconds ago, roared back to life. He let his demonic aura sip out of his corporation, reaching out to John, who froze in dread mid-sentence, suddenly suffused with an unexplainable feeling of doom.

The demon spoke in a voice that wasn’t entirely human anymore.

“ **Get out of here, you fucker, before I rip your skin from your mortal, stupid body.”**

John took a step back, blinked owlishly, his brain trying to make sense of the last ten seconds and wisely deciding to put it in the waste bin.

With a confused frown, John walked away, hopefully towards the boat (not that Crowley would help him find his way back).

The angel’s voice at his back had him startle.

“What happened, Crowley? What did he say to you?”

He schooled his features before turning to his friend. Yes, Aziraphale was worried. He couldn’t have heard the discussion (Crowley had made sure of it), but he had to have sensed the outburst of malevolent energy.

“It’s under control, angel. Don’t you worry.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth as if to object, then seemed to think better of it and nodded, still seeming a little troubled.

“I would never pry into your personal affairs, of course, but I  _ do  _ want you to have fun, dear. Please tell me if you are not enjoying yourself. We can still go home at any time, I know you miracled our suite free only so I could enjoy the food.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aziraphale. I’m having a great time. Let’s get back to our table and order that second bottle.”

“Very well, dearest.”

Crowley looked at his friend as he sat back and took another bite of kannoli, eyes closed in pure rapture.

This was their freaking Christmas vacation. Last one had been ruined by Hell, and he wouldn’t let stupid humans get in the way today. So what if Aziraphale appeared controlling to bystanders? Of course the angel talked sternly to him sometimes, and seemed to push him away, it was part of the  _ DANCE _ , for Someone’s sake! Had been for at least two millennia, when he had been comfortable enough in Crowley’s presence and started to trust him entirely.

Everyone else could guilt and bully the angel with a few words, but Crowley was the only one he trusted enough to push back and tell him  _ no _ .

So yeah, okay, it may appear a little weird to mortal strangers. But Aziraphale  _ needed _ it, needed to state his mind and stand up for himself and say his piece, and he had exactly  _ one _ person to do it with.

He couldn’t refuse Heaven, and helping humans was his  _ purpose _ . He couldn’t even bring himself to tell  _ customers _ to fuck off and had to resort to all sort of clever, devious ways to drive them out.

Who else could he deny?

They both received from the other something they couldn’t have from their respective head offices. Aziraphale offered his friend kindness and affection*, and Crowley gave him the right to refuse, even when the angel didn’t  _ want _ to say  _ no _ , because he knew his demon would use the right words to “convince” him anyway. Their arguments were a way for both of them to stay sane and to avoid brainwashing**.

*Something the demon would deny to like until the end of time.

**Well… almost all of their arguments. Some of them had been genuine, but no need to linger on that, right?

As his friend polished his plate, focusing on it entirely, Crowley tried not to panic.

Had they gotten a little too carried away in their game? Was everyone onboard truly thinking Aziraphale was an abusive husband?

He replayed their scenes in his mind. They’d yelled at each other, yes, had thrown barbs at the other, but nothing really deserving a fucking  _ intervention _ . That freak Kathleen and her stupid husband were ruining the game, and, much  _ worse _ , ruining his angel’s reputation. There was no way to know how far the gossip had gone already. And Crowley knew how bad gossip could turn. He’d used it enough through the ages.

Aziraphale would be  _ devastated _ if he learned about it.

He needed to act, and act fast. No more pretend fight (even if those were always a lark).

Firstly, he needed to take care of the  _ origin _ of the troubles.

Then, make everyone onboard think that Aziraphale was the  _ best _ husband in the world.  _ Nay _ , the universe.

Kathleen and John were going to have a rough week, decided Crowley, snapping his fingers under the tablecloth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is almost finished, unless of course I get carried away again and find a way to add ANOTHER chapter.  
> I THINK not, but who am I to trust myself, right?^^


	9. Dinner time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kathleen and John are taken care of, lobster is had, and Crowley changes the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I won't comment on the chapter count^^
> 
> This one was hard. It was a hard week, to be honest. No idea why, but writing was pretty difficult. I hope it's over now, and that next chapter will be easier.  
> I think it will :)

John and Kathleen weren’t present at dinner that night. Crowley was the only person at their table to notice it, which wasn’t surprising since he expected it.

Anathema and Newt couldn’t stop shooting disgusting looks and not-so-subtle innuendos at each other (and Crowley had to move his chair as discreetly as possible to avoid being the recipient of some badly aimed footsies play), and Aziraphale was so focussed on his perfect lobster thermidor that he wouldn’t even notice if the ship were sinking.

It was both depressing and frustrating to feel like the most mature of the group, especially when you were a demon. He would be the laughingstock of Hell, were they to see him at this moment.

“Good evening,” greeted Alison, stopping by their table with a sincere smile. “How was your outing? Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“It was beautiful,” assured Anathema. “Almost magical.”

“I am so glad you enjoyed it! Was it your first time here? I know your parents already knew Malta.”

Anathema frowned in confusion. “My parents?”

Alisson looked at Crowley and Aziraphale uncertainly. “Ah, yes. Your… your fathers?”

The angel gasped. “Oh! Oh, no my dear lady! We are not-That is to say… we are little Fyre’s godfathers.”

“Close friends of the family” provided Crowley.

Newt, like any person having difficulties with awkward social situations, looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Alisson blushed furiously, mortified.

“I am _so_ sorry! I assumed…”

“It’s okay,” assured Anathema, rushing to her rescue. “It happens all the time. They’re like foster parents to me anyway.”

Crowley smiled sweetly, chuckling like it was indeed a common occurrence. Aziraphale gaped at the witch, eyes widening in confusion, the sentence “ _whatever are you talking about my dear?”_ written all over his face.

Crowley kicked his shin, hard, before Alisson’s eyes landed on him. When they did, Aziraphale was shooting what she assumed was a smouldering look at his husband.

The angel pinched his lips and stabbed a potato with his fork, glaring at it.

He was, realised Crowley, about to sulk for the rest of the meal.

The demon mentally banged his head against a wall. Oh, good. Great idea, pissing his angel off. Way to get everyone to change their opinion about him!

With an inward sigh (lobster was one of the few dishes he actually enjoyed) he slid his plate in front of his friend, resolutely looking in the other direction, waiting for the angel to take the remaining half of his cooked crustacean. 

There was a beat of silence, then the metallic sound of a knife and fork carefully lifting something, and the plate slid back in front of him.

Crowley looked down. He was a potato poorer.

Angel and demon exchanged a glance, then got back to their meals, both hiding a smile as best as they could*.

*That is to say, very badly for Aziraphale, and perfectly for Crowley.

Everything went just fine until coffee. Newt, who Crowley could have sworn hadn’t looked away from his wife all meal long, dropped the bomb.

“I wonder where John and Kathleen are.”

Anathema turned to the other side of the room. “They’re not here? That’s strange.”

She pinned Crowley with a way-too-knowing look. “Do you have any idea where they are?”

The demon pinched his lips and shrugged innocently. “Stomach bug?” he offered. “I heard these can be real bitches. They probably will need to stay in bed for the next four to six days.”

“It is a real shame,” said the witch slowly.

Aziraphale popped the last bit of his lobster in his mouth, wiggled happily, sighed in delight, then finally looked around, and frowned slightly, realising some sort of important conversation was taking place.

“What are you talking about?” he asked with an apologetic smile.

“I was asking if Crowley knew where Kathleen and John were,” answered the witch, her eyes not leaving the demon’s.

“Oh. I imagine they are on a plane to London by now,” said the angel, straightening the tablecloth with a pout.

All the table fixed him with wide eyes, even Fyre.

“London?” Finally asked Crowley. “Why? Why are they going back to London?”

The angel’s smile could have frozen the sun. “From what I have gathered, they have an audit tomorrow for tax evasion. Dreadful story.”

“And where did you gather _that_?” wondered the demon, slowly.

Aziraphale blinked innocently. “Oh, you know… people talk… they shouldn’t have left such incriminating papers in their home. Not when their cleaning lady had the key. They were treating the poor woman abominably, as I have been made to understand.”

He shook his head in a way that succeeded to be both sad and righteous. “They seemed so nice. I guess one doesn’t know who people really are, deep down.”

“ _You_ did it,” accused Crowley. “You did something, don’t try to pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about! Why did you do that? It’s not like you.” He raised a hand as the angel started to answer. “Not saying I don’t love it. It’s always great to see you act like a bastard, but it usually takes more than that.”

 _You usually don’t say a thing when you’re the one being abused_ , he added to himself.

Aziraphale’s face closed off, and he took a sip of water, a metallic glint shining in his eyes.

“They upset you.”

“They _upset_ me?” repeated Crowley, incredulous.

The angel put his glass down a little harder than needed. “Twice,” he added sharply. “They upset you _twice_.”

Crowley pushed his glasses down his nose, and shot a glare to his friend. “Demons don’t get _upset,_ Aziraphale.”

The angel looked at him with his best poker face. “I did not want to imply that you needed my help, merely that I saw them annoying you. Annoying a demon is very dangerous, and I am a Principality after all. You could say I was protecting them by sending them away.”

Crowley tilted his head thoughtfully, nodded, and poured himself another glass of wine. “Fair enough,” he declared, before finishing his coffee. “So you thwarted me, right?”

Aziraphale lit up. “Exactly!”

Anathema snorted, earning herself a demonic glare.

“Care to share with the rest of the classroom, book girl?”

The witch grinned. “You two are better entertainment than TV.”

“This is not a very difficult endeavour,” murmured Aziraphale, taking a sip of tea.

Newton finished his cake, then got up, careful not to jostle the stroller, where Fyre was starting to doze off.

“I think I’ll have a cocktail. Do you want me to bring you one back?” he asked his wife.

“Yes, thanks, love.”

Crowley waved his hand dismissively. “Go to the bar together, we’ll watch the spawn tonight.”

Newt hesitated, looking to the angel. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, you know.”

“Oh yes, we would be delighted to have Fyre with us!” exclaimed Aziraphale, clasping his hands happily.

“Just get out of here, Pulsifer,” groaned the demon, not unkindly.

Anathema stood up, kissed her daughter’s hair with a soft smile, and grabbed Newt’s hand. “Let’s get wasted.”

Angel and demon watched the couple aim at the bar, hand in hand.

“Thank Satan,” huffed Crowley, “I couldn’t stand the lust they were exuding one more minute.”

“Oh, so you proposed to take care of Fyre to push them to sin, then?” asked his friend with a sardonic little smile. “Not because you are a big old romantic?”

Crowley crossed his arms, frowning. “Exactly.”

Aziraphale chuckled, and attacked his second helping of pistachio cake.

“You really are a terrible demon, dear.”

Crowley decided to take that as a compliment.

He sprawled a little more on his chair, happy to finally be able to stretch his legs now that Anathema and Newt were away, and focused on the task at hand. Kathleen was out of the equation, but he could still sense anger and contempt aimed at Aziraphale from several people in the room. Reaching out, he took the angel’s hand with a smile. His friend blinked and looked up in surprise, cake forgotten.

“Is something the matter, Crowley?”

“Just thinking. It’s been such a long time since we last took a romantic trip together.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, then glinted mischievously, ready as always to follow the demon’s lead without question*.

“I imagine you are right. We should do it more often.”

*Crowley had once ranted for the most part of a drunken evening about the importance of improvisation during a demonic game. Aziraphale had listened _very_ seriously.

“Wanna take a walk on the bridge, just you and me?” crooned Crowley just loud enough for the nearest tables to hear, batting his lashes with a wicked grin.

Aziraphale frowned slightly. “With the baby, you mean? We cannot leave her here alone.”

The demon rolled his eyes behind his glasses and hissed in a low tone. “Yes, with the baby. It was a bloody figure of speech, Aziraphale.”

“So sorry, dear,” murmured his friend before raising his voice a little. “I would be delighted to take a stroll outside with you, dearest. The sky was clear today, so we will be able to do some stargazing!”

He shot Crowley a nervous look that the demon interpreted (justly) by “ _Stargazing is considered a romantic activity, right?”_

Crowley smiled sweetly. “Sounds perfect, angel.”

The whole room watched them exit, Crowley gallantly holding the door for his husband and the stroller.

“I thought they were fighting,” wondered someone.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So, we are not fighting anymore?” wondered Aziraphale, tucking the little yellow blanket neatly around Fyre’s legs.

“No, it doesn’t bother people as much as I thought. Let’s make them jealous.”

The angel beamed. “Oh, what an excellent idea, dear boy! I could not agree more! It certainly will be _very_ devilish!”

Crowley huffed. “You only say that because you know it means I will bring you cakes all day long. And drinks.”

“With umbrellas,” specified Aziraphale, raising a finger. “A devoted husband wouldn’t _dare_ bring me umbrellaless drinks.”

“You’ll get your umbrellas, angel,” sighed Crowley, trying his best to sound bored, but unable to repress a fond smile.

“Oh, jolly good. I will endeavour to act like a besotted partner myself.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “I can’t wait to see that.”

As Aziraphale started to push the stroller towards the helm, the demon looked back at the dining room, tilted his head, and snapped his fingers.

Inside, the waiter stopped clearing their table with a frown. He was sure there had been a half-eaten pistachio cake on the plate he’d just grabbed.

He looked down, and under the table, then shrugged and got back to his work. It was late, and he probably needed to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the LAST of this story. I don't care if it turns out longer than expected, I will post it as ONE chapter!  
> Prepare for some tooth rotting fluff, because that's what it will be^^  
> I guess I'll have to write some angsty fic after that ;)


	10. Venice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boat finaly reaches Venice. Our two favourite immortals intend to spend some time in the city before heading home, leaving Newt and Anathema enjoy the rest of the cruise without them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it! Damn, that story was hard to write. I guess I am angst deprived, maybe?  
> It's good to finish something, I was struggling a bit for inspiration lately, and I hope it's back now.  
> It is a long chapter, but I couldn't bring myself to add another one AGAIN. I mean, I'm pretty sure there's laws against that^^

Aziraphale put his book down with a slight frown, and looked at his friend’s sleeping form on the bed, a shock of red hair barely poking out of the blankets.

He got up, and checked on Fyre, sleeping in her miracled cot*. The child was sprawled on her back, eyes closed, fists loosely clenched on either side of her head, a little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

*Green and yellow, with little ducklings.

Babies were, in the angel’s opinion, the most adorable thing the Lord ever created. He headed to the door, working a small miracle to open it without a sound, and headed towards the stairs leading below deck.

Crowley would take care of Fyre if she woke up in his absence. That demon could argue all he wanted that babies were not  _ his thing _ , and that they were way too fragile for him to hold one, but he could perform the task if the circumstances required it.

And said circumstances required Aziraphale to go to the engine room.

* * *

Crowley groaned and painstakingly opened his eyes, fighting the voice in his head telling him to  _ get back to sleep! _

Something was not normal. Feeling strange.

With a hiss, the demon sat up, shaking himself like a wet dog to clear his mind.

“N’gel?” he blurted, reaching out with one hand while the other scrubbed at his face.

No coffee.

“Aziraphaaaaaale!” he moaned, wiggling his fingers in wait for his morning coffee.

A tiny whine answered him. Crowley shot to his feet, suddenly wide awake, head snapping towards the noise.

Baby cot.

Slowly, the demon approached with all the precautions of a minesweeper. Fyre scrunched up her face, gurgled, and sighed in her sleep. Crowley let out a heavy (and silent) sigh of relief.

_ Well, that was a close one. _

A glance at the porthole confirmed that it was still dark outside.

Where  _ was _ that birdbrain of an angel?

Crowley frowned. Something had woken him up, and Aziraphale wasn’t here. He tried to remember the sensation that had driven him out of sleep.

A familiar feeling, he thought. Something worrying but not  _ too  _ worrying.

A miracle! That was it. An angelic miracle, not very far away. Not the kind of thing that would usually wake him up, but they were in an unfamiliar environment, and their last ‘adventure’ had left Crowley a much lighter sleeper. He was getting better, but still had difficulties letting go if the angel wasn’t right next to him.

Apparently, his subconscious could sense if Aziraphale moved away from him, even a little. Cold dread ran along the demon’s spine.

The angel was somewhere else,  _ alone _ , and using miracles.

Head snapping from the baby to the door, the demon made a hasty decision.

Wake up Newt and Anathema, hand the offspring over, and find where in Heaven that  _ stupid _ angel had-

The door opened. Aziraphale stepped in.

He found himself immediately slammed to the wall, ten perfectly manicured fingers grabbing at his collar.

“Where  _ have  _ you been?” hissed a low, ferocious voice.

The angel blinked. “Oh. Hello, Crowley. Why are you up so early?”

The demon’s grip tightened. “Are you  _ kidding _ me? You disappeared, you left the  _ baby  _ behind, and I sensed a freaking  _ miracle _ ! Why do you think I’m up, you stupid moron?”

Aziraphale gasped lightly, his features softening into something halfway between guilt and apology.

“I am so sorry, dear. I did not mean to worry you. Everything is fine, I assure you.”

With a grunt, Crowley let go.

The angel tilted his head with a worried frown. He didn’t even think about straightening his rumpled clothes, and that, in Crowley’s opinion, was rude. When a demon manhandled you, the polite thing to do was to acknowledge the threat. Was it so difficult to look wary, or relieved, for half a second? Did adjusting a collar take that much time?

Really, Aziraphale could have at least  _ pretended  _ to be afraid.

“I was only gone a minute, Crowley.”

“Yeah, and why exactly?” growled the demon.

His friend made a face. “I… thought I sensed someone needing help. But once I entered the machine room, it was gone.”

Crowley frowned. “That’s strange. You’ve never gotten a false alarm on your angelic radar before, right?”

“I guess there’s a first for everything,” decided the angel, walking to the cot to check on Fyre. “I used a miracle to search the entire ship, but I did not find anyone in distress. I am sorry if I worried you.”

“Wasn’t  _ worried _ ”, mumbled Crowley. “Just, you know. Didn’t want to have to take care of the spawn. I don’t do babies.”

Aziraphale let out a long suffering sigh. “You were a  _ nanny _ , Crowley.”

“For a  _ five year old! _ It was walking and potty trained already!”

“He, Crowley. Not it.”

“I’ve known you to be more open minded about pronouns,” said Crowley with mock offense.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I am quite certain that ‘it’ is not a pronoun to use for a child, whatever their gender, dear boy. Do you really intend on being a nuisance at four in the morning?”

“Hey! I’m  _ always  _ a nuisance!”

“You are making it rather difficult to disagree with you at the moment. I will fetch you some coffee, maybe it will make you a little less obnoxious.”

Crowley pouted as the door closed once again behind his friend, mimicked “Maybe it will make you a little less obnoxious” in a mocking tone, then gasped as a sudden thought occurred to him.

“He left me alone with the spawn  _ again _ !”

Silent as a shadow (something every demon knew how to do), he approached the baby. She was sleeping like a log. 

“Your uncle Aziraphale is a  _ bastard _ , kid. Mark my words,” he whispered.

* * *

Crowley looked at the coast of Tremiti passing by, and scrolled on his phone to see what the place had become.

He turned to Aziraphale, who was looking the same way. “Haven’t been here in five hundred years. Seems like they’ve got great hiking trails. Beautiful views for tourists.”

The angel scrunched his nose in distaste. “It was not a nice place last time I visited for an assignment. I am glad to know it got better.”

Crowley bumped his shoulder supportively. Bad memories were something you got used to after the first few centuries.

“What do you want to do in Venice, angel?” he asked, more as a way to change the subject than anything else.

His friend’s face brightened immediately. “I really  _ have  _ to visit Calle della Chiesa,” he said excitedly, looking in the distance with a wistful smile.

Crowley groaned. “ _ Again _ ? Angel, why? The press isn’t even there anymore, there’s nothing to see!”

Aziraphale pursued his lips in a stubborn pout. “I like to go there. It reminds me of old times. Aldine is a very important part of printing history, dear. Aldus was a good friend, and I like to think of him whenever I visit.”

Crowley hissed under his breath. That angel didn’t need to think of his past  _ friends _ . He had every book that ridiculous human* had ever printed, wasn’t it enough of a reminder?

*Aldus was a stupid name, in the demon’s opinion. Just like Oscar. Ridiculous name, Oscar.

“You’re the only person I know who would make pilgrimage for old presses,” grumbled the demon. “You’re an angel, aren’t you supposed to visit holy places?”

“Oh, I am  _ ever  _ so sorry, Crowley. Do  _ you  _ want to visit holy places?” snapped the angel in a scathing (and slightly louder) tone.

At the same time, they both realised that everyone on the bridge was looking at them in judgement. Aziraphale cleared his throat. Crowley cursed inwardly.

“I think I forgot my book in the cabin,” murmured the angel before walking away, blushing slightly. The dark looks followed his retreat.

_ Perfect _ , thought Crowley.  _ They hate him even more. _

Worse, the angel seemed to have noticed it.

_ I need to up my game, NOW! _

The rest of the day was dedicated to show everyone how perfect Crowley’s angelic husband was. Unfortunately, he rapidly realised that every little gesture he managed to put in scene didn’t help at all. It had to come from the angel.

“Pull my chair for me,” he mumbled under his breath at dinner. Aziraphale only looked at him, bewildered.

“Are you quite all right?” he asked in the same tone.

“Yesss I’m all right, just pull the blessed chair, angel. Considerate husband, remember?”

“I feel awfully patronizing,” complained his friend, pulling said chair with a fake smile.

“You look it too,” Anathema provided helpfully.

Newt turned to her with the face of a kicked puppy. “I pull your chair for you sometimes.”

“When I hold the baby, it isn’t patronising, it’s helpful. Plus, I do it too.”

Newt nodded seriously. “You’re a very helpful wife.”

“I hate you both,” sighed Crowley.

* * *

The next three days were a sequel of frustrating attempts at changing everyone’s mind. Crowley was considered an absolute sweetie who deserved way better than his dreadful husband, and Aziraphale’s acting skills (or lack thereof) was NOT helping in the slightest.

This, thought the demon with a heavy sigh, was why his friend usually never lied during a game. Aziraphale was awfully good at bending the truth, or letting others draw conclusions on their own, but such a skill existed for a reason.

The angel was a bad, very bad liar. That “I don’t even like you” during Armageddon would have made Crowley laugh out loud had the circumstances been any less dire.*

He was trying, that much was true. But every attempt at appearing in love rang so false Will Shakespeare was probably turning in his grave.

*And had the demon been any less stressed, he would have noticed his friend answering a question with another one. “Why would I know his shoe-size?” was classic deflecting-the-subject Aziraphale. Crowley was still angry at himself for missing that one. The angel wouldn’t have been more obvious had he been holding a ‘I KNOW WHERE THE ANTICHRIST IS’ sign.

“You are awfully bad at romancing,” realised Crowley that morning as they watched the sun rise.

It was so cold that they were alone on the bridge and didn’t need to pretend at all, something both of them felt awfully grateful for.

“I do not understand how it can be so hard. Humans usually assume we are in that kind of relationship,” sighed the angel. “I cannot even recall how many times we had to convince them we did not know each other.”

“I told you, that’s because you smiled too much. Strangers don’t smile like that to each other.”

“But I was happy to see you, my dear! What was I supposed to do?”

“Literally anything  _ but _ smile.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Anyway. That time is behind us. We can smile or act like close acquaintances in public.”

“Oh,  _ close acquaintances _ . I feel so bloody special,” mocked Crowley.

“Oh hush, you serpent. You know what I mean.”

Crowley grunted what could have passed for an assent.

Aziraphale looked dejectedly towards the dining room. “I do not like them thinking I am mean to you. What could I do to be a better friend?”

“What? Where does that come from? You’re not  _ mean _ to me. You’re a good friend!”

“Obviously not. Everyone seems to think I treat you awfully.”

“Not me! You shouldn’t care about what a bunch of humans  _ think _ . They see nothing. I swear to Satan, if they start making you doubt how good a friend you are, I will have to take drastic measures. I will replay a Titanic scene  _ nobody _ is going to like.”

“Crowley! You cannot  _ kill  _ them!” gasped the angel, horrified.

“Not  _ all _ of them, obviously. I’ll save witch girl and Newt. And the kid. Bartender too, he’s okay. Always has a decent martini at the ready for me. Oh, and that girl, what’s her name. Allison?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as his friend’s list of ‘who not to kill onboard’ lengthened by the minute.

“Maybe we should just leave the ship at Pescara and fly home. That would be the reasonable thing to do,” he decided.

“And let them  _ win _ ? No we bloody won’t! We said we would visit Venice. You have that press thingy to go to.”

Before the angel could reply something stupid, like that his memories weren’t important or a comment equally demeaning, Crowley added “And I want to see if the coffee is still the same. Best coffee in the world, Venice.”

Aziraphale’s mouth snapped closed, and he straightened his shoulders. Crowley loved coffee. They  _ had  _ to go to Venice, whatever the cost.

“You are right, my dear. I am sure the rest of the trip will be delightful!”

Crowley hid his smile. Manipulating the angel was always so easy.

Maybe he could just erase all of the passenger’s memories. Make them adore Aziraphale.

Nah. He would be pissed off.

Next to him, the angel drew a sharp breath and reached out blindly to grab his wrist. “Crowley!”

The demon looked around frantically, palms of his hands itching to summon Hellfire. “What? What?”

“Can you sense it? It’s back!”

“I don’t sense a thing!”

“There’s someone truly desperate. Somebody needs help, Crowley! It is the same person as the other night!”

“But you didn’t find them the other night. It doesn’t make any sense, angel. You checked everywhere onboard, right?”

Aziraphale was frowning, eyes closed, trying to pinpoint the sensation of need.

“Stop the boat!” he snapped suddenly.

“Whot?”

“It’s in the sea. Stop the boat.”

“In the sea? Wait a minute… no human can survive three days in the sea. It’s freezing! Angel! We can’t stop the boat for a-a-an otter or something! Aziraphale, are you listening to me?”

But the angel was already heading to the other side of the boat, a rope ladder miraculously appearing against the hull.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Crowley snapped his fingers, and the ship’s engines stopped dead.

By the time Aziraphale reached the water, the ship had almost stopped moving and all the staff and half the passengers were gathered on the bridge and either looking with fascinated horror or yelling at him to  _ get back onboard immediately, Sir! _

Some phone cameras were already in action, ready to share footage of  _ Mad Victorian Englishman jumps in the sea! _

When the angel reached out to apparently touch the water, something surfaced to meet him. Everyone stopped talking. In fact, reckoned Crowley, everyone stopped breathing for a second.

“Oh my God, it’s a  _ dolphin _ !” squealed a girl.

“What is he doing?” Asked Anathema’s voice right behind the demon.

Crowley shrugged. “Apparently that thing needs some help. Look at its mouth.”

The witch squinted her eyes. “Plastic soda rings,” she finally spat out. “The poor beast will die if we don’t cut it out.”

Newton poked the demon’s shoulder, handing him scissors. “Here. Bring this to Aziraphale.”

With a huff, Crowley bent over the railing.

“Sir!” started the Captain with all the authority of his station. Crowley raised an eyebrow. The Captain took a step back.

“Oi, angel! You’ll need those!”

Aziraphale, who had been murmuring in a language no one on Earth could hear, looked up and caught the scissors as they fell.

“All right, my boy, come closer now. Here we go. You poor child, you must be exhausted…”

“He’s talking to the dolphin!” stage whispered someone.

“Look, there’s others! They’re touching him!”

“They’re helping their friend stay on the surface,” observed Anathema, who was apparently a dolphin expert. Crowley made a mental note to ask her if they  _ were  _ mammals. She would have the answer.

“The others are bigger. I think it’s a baby,” said Newt.

“Mr. Fell is saving a  _ baby dolphin _ !” cried one of the women next to the rail to the others gathered behind.

Crowley looked to Newton. “Where did you find scissors?”

“I always have them in my pocket. And string.”

“And a safety pin,” added Anathema, still looking at Aziraphale below them. “My husband is like a human swiss knife.”

With a last snip, Aziraphale freed the (possibly) baby dolphin. He laid his hand on its snout in what appeared like a stroke, a small blessing healing the animal.

“Here, right as rain, my dear. Do mind how you go.”

The band of dolphins plunged after some loud clicking, and the angel started his ascent.

Around Crowley, the crowd was murmuring loudly. The demon frowned. Surely they couldn’t find anything mean to say this time? Helping animals was good, right? Humans loved that kind of thing. But he couldn’t help but hear the angel’s name on everyone’s lips.

Maybe sinking the ship wasn’t that bad of an idea after all, he thought, annoyed.

Aziraphale set foot on the bridge, looked around, and smiled sheepishly.

The crowd erupted in loud cheers.

* * *

Venesia was one of Crowley’s favourite cities. Always had been, if you didn’t count that one time where Pestilence had been making it their headquarters. He looked around at the docks, then at Aziraphale, chatting with the other passengers a few metres away. Knowing the angel, saying goodbye was going to take at least twenty more minutes.

He used the time looking at the sea, checking for their favourite places on his phone (all still there, thank Someone) and managing to frighten two seaguls and a few stray tourists.

Finally, judging that enough was enough, he headed back to his friend*, hands in his pocket, and let out a loud, impatient sigh.  


*After shaking the bartender's hand, magically slipping him some banknotes in the process. Good kid, he’ll miss him.

Of course the angel ignored him. And Crowley  _ knew  _ he’d heard.

“I was so sorry to hear that you were leaving us today,” was saying one of the tiresome women who constituted Aziraphale’s fanclub. Crowley snarled and looked aways as she started to talk and talk again with a sweet smile, like she was a  _ close acquaintance  _ or something. 

This was a  _ nightmare _ . He missed the time where everyone hated his friend. At least then they were  _ avoiding  _ him. Now they were all gathering around him every five minutes and constantly talking to him and calling him “dolphin whisperer” or some other new age shitty thing like that. Apparently saving a sea mammal (he’d checked) was something that promoted you instantly to “best human being/husband/godfather” in everybody’s eyes.

So yes, everyone  _ adored  _ Aziraphale now. That was good. What was less good was the fact that he’d barely been able to talk to  _ his  _ angel in two whole days.

Next to him, Anathema sniggered. He scowled at her, and she giggled again.  _ Traitor _ .

Newt patted his shoulder and whispered a “It will be over soon” that didn’t soothe the demon (because demons don’t need soothing) but was appreciated nonetheless. Newt was a good kid. Even if he’d married a traitor.

He looked back at Aziraphale and his groupie just as she clasped the angel’s hand in hers with tears in her eyes. Aziraphale flinched imperceptibly, like every time someone touched him.

“All right, that’s it!” growled Crowley, snatching his friend’s hand right out of the interloper’s grasp and pulling him away. “We’re going to be late. See you ‘round, pleasure to meet you, and all that.”

“Oh my,” chuckled the lady. “You are a jealous one, Mr. Crowley.”

“Have fun, my dear,” said Aziraphale, waving at the other passengers before following Crowley along the docks. Newt and Anathema were walking away with the stroller already, but they were meeting them later for a last lunch together in one of the angel’s favourite restaurants.

“Are you all right, Crowley?” asked Aziraphale after a minute.

The demon groaned. Then looked at him from the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not  _ jealous _ ,” he said.

“I know, dear.”

“You can make friends with stupid humans if you want.”

“I am aware of that.”

“I just don’t want them to touch you.”

“And it is very considerate of you, Crowley.”

Crowley nodded. He  _ was  _ a considerate friend. “Wanna grab something to eat, angel?”

Aziraphale sent him that fond, delighted, angelic beam that was reserved for Crowley only.

“Oh, I do think I will feel quite peckish in a moment! But just not right now. How about a coffee, my dear?”

The demon pushed his hands a little more in his pockets and shrugged casually, careful to hide his smile.

“If you insist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ride is over, everyone!  
> I have the bingo challenge to finish, but I'll take it slow (I've got until last day of December, no pressure for once^^). 
> 
> Febuwhump, on the other hand, is something I really want to do.  
> And I hope I'll be able to do it entirely. It's my birthday month, after all, and this year is a big one. I want to write all 28 prompts as a gift, ha ah!  
> Maybe if I stick to short stories it will be easier.   
> Plus, I have a week to start on it before posting.  
> I'm not forgetting about the wedding story either (but that one is my personal white whale. SO elusive!). I already have written half of last chapter, so hopefully I will post it before summer, ha ha!
> 
> Here are the five first Febuwhump prompts I will (try to) write this week:
> 
> 1-Mind control (Yay!)  
> 2-"I can't take this anymore" (That's an interesting one)  
> 3-Imprisonment (Hard, that one. I can't help thinking of the Bastille^^)  
> 4-Impaling (ok, you know how much I love whump, but that's a little too much for me. On my birthday month! Nah, I won't do it to my boys, I'll have to find a way around that one).  
> 5-"Take me instead" (Now we're talking. It will probably be a funny one^^)


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